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AND 

PARTNER. 


BY 



VICTOR CHERBULIEZ. 


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SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


CHAPTER 1. 

Were the events of this lower world governed by the law 
of probabilities, we might imagine that Count Abel Larinski 
and Mademoiselle Antoinette Moriaz would have ended their 
career without ever having met. Count Larinski lived in 
Vienna; Mademoiselle Moriaz only quitted Paris to spend 
the fine season of the year at Cormeilles. She had never 
heard, either at Cormeilles or in Paris, of Count Larinski, 
and he, on his side, was quite unaware of Mademoiselle 
Moriaz’s existence. He was wholly occupied with a gun of 
his own invention, which was to make his fortune and 
which failed to do so. He hoped that this weapon, which 
he considered a real master-piece, superior in precision and 
range to anything known, would be appreciated according to 
its merits by competent judges, and be one day adopted 
to arm all the Austro-Hungarian infantry regiments. By 
dint of great exertion, he had succeeded in obtaining the 
nomination of an official commission to experiment upon 
it. The commission decided that there were certain ad- 
vantages possessed by the Larinski rifle, but that it had 
three defects ; it was too heavy, it fouled too quickly, and its 
cost of production was too high. Count Larinski did not 
lose heart. He set to work again on his invention, spent 

A 


2 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


nearly two years in improving it, and took pains to make his 
rifle lighter and less expensive. On being again twed, the 
weapon burst, and this vexatious incident destroyed the 
reputation of the Larinski rifle for ever. Instead of making 
a fortune, the inventor was out of pocket by his expenses 
and outlay of every kind : he had spent both his capital 
and income, which, certainly, were not large. 

Fate was more favourable to Mademoiselle Antoinette 
Moriaz, than to Count Abel Larinski. She did not trouble 
herself about inventing a new rifle, and was by no means 
reduced to her wits for a living ; she had inherited from 
her mother an income of nearly 100,000 francs, which 
enabled her to enjoy life and make others happy, for she 
was extremely charitable. ‘ She liked the world without lik- 
ing it too much ; she could do without it, she had mental 
resources and a frank disposition. During the winter she 
went out a good deal and saw plenty of society. Her father, 
a member of the Institute, and Professor of chemistry at the 
College de France, was one of those savants who like dining 
out; he was also fond of music and the theatre. Antoinette 
accompanied him everywhere; they were hardly ever at 
home except on the nights when they received company ; 
but, when the swallows returned. Mademoiselle Moriaz 
was delighted to make her escape to Cormeilles, and stay 
there for seven months, reduced to the society of Mademoi- 
selle Moiseney, who, after being her governess, had become 
her companion. She lived out of doors, strolled in the 
woods, read, and painted; and the woods, with her books 
and pencils, to say nothing of her poor people, occupied her 
time so agreeably, that she never felt ennui for a quarter of 
an hour. She was too well satisfied with her lot to wish to 
change it, and was in no hurry to marry. She was turned 
twenty-four, had refused several offers, and wished for no- 
thing better than to remain single. This was the only point 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


3 


on which the heiress and those about her disagreed. When 
her father was on the point of growing angry, and cried, ‘‘ I 
wish it !” she began to laugh, and he laughed too, saying : 
“ I am not the master here ; I seem like the boy teaching 
his grandmother/' 

It is dangerous to overwork your brain if you dine out 
often. During the winter of 1875, M. Moriaz overworked 
himself, over-taxed his powers, and injured his health. He 
was attacked by one of those ansemic complaints of which we 
hear so much now-a-days ; it being the fashionable ailment. 
He was obliged to break off his lectures and engage a substi- 
tute, and early in July, his doctor ordered him off to the 
Engadine to take a course of iron waters at St. Moritz. 
There is no getting from Paris ta St. Moritz without passing 
through Chur. It was at Chur that Mademoiselle Antoinette 
Moriaz, who accompanied her father, first met Count Abel 
Larinski. When fate takes the matter into her hands, the 
spider and fly meet. 

Abel Larinski was on his way from Vienna; he had 
travelled via Milan and the Spliigen Pass. Though his 
funds were rather low when he alighted in the chief town of 
tlie Orisons, he put up at the Steinbock Hotel, the best and 
dearest in the place. He thought that this was incumbent 
upon Count Lai'inski ; this kind of duty was sacred to him, 
and he discharged it religiously. He was in a very melan- 
choly frame of mind, and took a walk to divert his thoughts. 
On crossing the bridge over the Plessur, he fixed his troubled 
eyes on the muddy waters of the torrent, and was almost 
tempted to jump in ; but in such projects there is a wide 
difference between intention and execution, and Count Larin- 
ski found under these circumstances that the saddest man 
in the world has some difficulty in curing himself of his love 
of life. 

He had little reason to be cheerful He had left Vienna 


4 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


bound for the casino at Saxon, where roulette and trent-et- 
quarante are played. His ill luck led him to halt at Milan, 
and be introduced to a club of not very good repute, where 
he imprudently played and lost. He had just enough money 
left to take him on to Saxon ; but what can any one do in a 
casino with empty pockets'? Before crossing the Spliigen he 
had written to a little Jew banker of his acquaintance for 
some money. He hardly reckoned upon the Hebrew’s 
compliance, and this made him stand for five minutes gazing 
at the Plessur, before he retraced his steps. Twenty minutes 
later he crossed a square ornamented with a pretty gothic 
fountain, and, seeing a cathedral facing him, entered. 

The cathedral at Chur contains, among other curiosities, 
a painting by Albert Durer, a St. Lawrence on the gridiron 
attributed to Holbein, a piece of the true cross, and the relics 
of St. Lucius and his sister Emesta. Abel gave but little 
attention to St. Lucius and St. Lawrence. H e had scarcely 
reached the nave when he perceived an object which seemed 
to him more interestmg than picture or relic. An English 
poet has said that paradise is sometimes found on a woman’s 
face, and that there is no seeing the paradise without feeling 
a wish to enter it. Although Count Larinski was not a 
romantic man, he remained for some instants motionless, as if 
admiration had nailed him to the spot. Was this a forewarn- 
ing of his destiny *? It is a fact that on seeing Mademoiselle 
Antoinette Moriaz for the first time, he experienced a peculiar 
surprise and beating of the heart which was new to him. 
He made a mistake at first about this charming girl. He 
guessed at once that the man who accompanied her and 
who had grey hair, a wide open brow, and bright eyes 
shadowed by handsome, well-marked eyebrows, belonged to 
some learned fraternity ; but he imagined that this white 
cravatted gentleman, though over sixty, had preserved a 
youthful heart and was in luck at that moment. 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


5 


There are some women whom it is impossible not to look 
at. Wherever Mademoiselle Antoinette Moriaz went, she 
was looked at, firstly, because she was charming, and secondly, 
because she had her own way of dressing herself and her 
hair, which, with certain little turns of her head, and a ratlier 
easy grace in her gait and carriage, attracted attention. 
Some people maintained that she liked to astonish the 
passers-by, and was not afraid of being taken for what she 
was not. I do not believe this. She was indifferent to 
public opijiion, and in all matters consulted her own taste, 
which was sometimes daring ; but she was never so con- 
sciously, it was part of her nature. People seeing her at a 
distance sometimes said : Ah, there goes an adventuress. 
They were soon disabused on approaching her ; the purity 
of her look, her distinguished and perfectly modest air, drove 
away every evil suspicion, and their mental comment was : 
Forgive me, mademoiselle, for making such a mistake. This 
was almost the speech mentally addressed to her by Count 
Abel, as she passed by him on leaving the church. Her 
father was telling her something which made her smile ; the 
smile was that of a young girl old enough to be a wife, and 
who has nothing as yet to conceal from her guardian angel. 
Count Larinski followed her out and kept her in sight to the 
end of the square. On returning to his hotel, he had some 
curiosity to satisfy. He questioned a waiter, who showed 
him these words in the travellers’ list : M. Mm'iaz, memhei' 
of the Institute of France, and daughter, on, their way from 
Paris to St, Moritz. ‘‘ And after that % ” he asked himself, 
and thought no more about it. 

After dining, he went to the post-office to inquire for a 
letter that he was expecting from Vienna. He found it 
there, and, returning, shut himself up in his room, where he 
tore open the missive with a feverish hand. The letter, 
which was written in French more singular than elegant, 


6 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


was the reply from the little Jewish banker. It ran to the 
following effect : 

Count : though you speak and understand German pretty 
well, you do not like reading it, so 1 write in French. I am 
very sorry to be unable to comply with your esteemed request. 
Business is very bad. It is perfectly impossible for me to 
advance you another florin or even to renew your bill, which 
will shortly fall due. I greatly regret having to remind you 
that I am the father of a family. 

“ I wish to give you my opinion freely. I believed in your 
rifle, but I have ceased to believe in it, and so has every one 
else. When it was safe, it was heavy ; when it was light it 
was no longer safe. What could be done ! You know that 
it burst. Beware of improving it any further, or it will ex- 
plode as soon as it feels it is looked at. This wretched rifle 
has consumed all your property, as well as a little of mine, 
though I feel confident that you will pay at least the interest 
that has accrued. It grieves me to mention it, but it is 
a fact that -every inventor has some little bee in his bonnet 
and ends in the asylum. For heaven’s sake, let rifles 
alone, and invent nothing more, or you will sink to depths 
from which you can never be fished up.” 

At this point Abel Larinski ceased reading. He put the 
letter down on the table, and throwing himself back in his 
easy-chair with a wild look, fixing his eyes on a corner of 
the room, he began to say in a hollow voice : 

“ You hear that, fool ! The old fellow is right. Cursed 
be the day when the genius of invention first troubled your 
sublfine brain ! What a rare find you had ! What has it 
brought me ? Great illusions and great misfortunes. What 
has been the result of my spending whole nights in talking 
with you about breech-loaders, plates, triggers, grips, levers, 
conical bullets and spiral springs ? What profits have I 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


7 


gained by these diverting conversations ? You were a great 
man and foresaw everything, except — I know not what to 
call it — that trifle which great men do not think about, and 
which makes things succeed. When you talked to me in 
your slow monotonous voice, when you fixed your melancholy 
gaze upon me, I ought to have read in your eyes that you 
were but a blockhead .... The devil take you and your 
rifle, your rifle and you, empty head, chimerical brain, a true 
Pole, a true Larinski ! ” 

To whom was Count Abel talking 1 To a phantom, or his 
double ? He alone knew. When he had vented his wrath, 
he went on with his letter, which concluded as follows : — 

“ Will you allow me to give you some advice. Count, just 
one bit of good advice ? I have known you for three years, 
and take an interest in your fortunes. You invent guns, and 
when they are safe, they are not light enough. Excuse 
me, but I can’t understand you. You bear a noble name ; 
you carry a magnificent head on your shoulders and are 
generally thought to resemble Faust ; but you don’t turn 
either your name or your head to account. Leave rifles 
alone, and turn your attention to women ; it is the women 
who will bring you to the surface again. There is no time 
to be lost. Excuse me, but you are thirty, and perhaps a 
little over. That wretched gun has made you throw away 
three precious years. 

‘‘ I much regret having to remind you. Count, that the 
little bill is nearly due. I have had the bracelet valued 
which was left with me as a deposit ; it is not worth a thou- 
sand florins, as you thought ; it is a little antique, wjiich 
would only suit people with a fancy for curiosities, and fancies 
are rare now-a-days ; there is not time for them. 

“ I remain Count, with much respect, your most humble 
and obedient servant, 


Moses Guldbnthal.' 


8 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


Abel Larinski threw himself back again in his chair. He 
crumpled Moses Guldenthal’s letter between his fingers, say- 
ing to himself that the Guldenthals have sometimes ideas 
or inspirations. Yes,’’ thought he, this Jew is right, 
I have thrown away three precious years. I have had a 
fever, and a cloud has hung over my eyes ; but, thank 
heaven, the charm is broken, the illusion has fled, and I am 
cured and delivered. Farewell, my chimera, I will be its 
dupe no longer. Many thanks, my dear fellow, I will restore 
you your rifle ; do what you like with it.” 

His eyes fell on the mirror over the mantelpiece, he looked 
at himself for a few seconds. “It is indeed the face of an 
inventor,” he continued with a smile. “This pale wan 
complexion, the rings round the eyes, these hollow, almost 
sunken cheeks. . . . These three years have left their traces. 
Bah ! a little rest among Alpine pastures, and Faust will re- 
cover his youth.” 

He took a pen and wrote as follows : — 

“ You are really too kind, my dear Guldenthal ; you refuse 
me the wretched florins that I asked for, but give me instead 
a piece of advice worth a fortune. Unluckily, I am not able 
to follow it. A word is enough to make finely organised 
natures understand one another, and you are a poet at certain 
hours. When you have done a good stroke of business during 
the day, after rubbing your hands till you have almost taken 
the skin olf them, you tune your violin, which you play like an 
angel, and draw from it such delightful tones that your ledger 
and strong box begin to shed tears of emotion. I too am a 
musician, and women are my music. They will never be to 
me anything but adorable and useless, the dreamy part of my 
life. Your dreams bring you in fifty per cent, as I know to 
my cost ; my dreams will never bring me in anything, and 
for that very reason they are dear to me. 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


9 


“Do not misunderstand me, I forbid you to dispose of 
the piece of jewellery I left with you ; we Poles are so weak 
as to cling to our family relics. Do not be uneasy; I shall 
be back in Vienna before the end of the month, and will 
honour that nice little bill. You will be falling down at my 
feet one day to beg me to borrow a thousand florins of you, 
and I shall astonish you by my ingratitude. May the God of 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, preserve you, my dear Guldenthal.” 

As he was finishing his letter, he heard the sound of hai'ps 
and violins. Some itinerant musicians were giving a con- 
cert in the hotel garden, which was illuminated a giorno. 
Abel opened his window and leaned out. The first object 
on which his eyes fell was Mademoiselle Moriaz, walking 
down an avenue on her father’s arm. Many people were 
looking at her ; it was not easy, as we have said, not to look 
at her ; but no one was watching her so attentively as Count 
Larinski. He never took his eyes off her. “Is she hand- 
some ? is she pretty ? ” he said to himself ; “ I don’t know, 
but she is certainly charming. She is a fancy article, like 
my bracelet. She is a trifle thin, and her shoulders are too 
broad for her tall figure, which is as supple and slender as 
a reed ; but as she is, she is unrivalled. Pier carriage and 
movements are like no one else’s ; I fancy that when she 
walks in the streets of Paris, people turn to look after her, 
but no one would think of following her. How old is she ? 
Twenty-four or twenty-five. Why is not she married ? . . . . 
Who is the very mature and rather plain person who trots 
by her side like a poodle? She must be a companion. 
Here comes a smart maid to bring her a shawl, and the com- 
panion hastens to wrap it round her shoulders. She re- 
ceives the attention with the air bf a person accustomed to 
be waited upon. Mademoiselle de Moriaz must be an 
heiress : then how is it that she is not married ? ” 


10 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


Count Larinski was carrying on this conversation with 
himself all the time that Mademoiselle Moriaz was walking 
in the garden. As soon as she had gone into the hotel, he 
felt as if the garden were deserted, as if every one had left, 
and the harpers were playing out of tune. He closed ins 
window. He had given up his plan of starting for Saxon on 
the morrow, and decided to go and stay at St. Moritz for at 
least two or three days. He was saying to himself : ‘‘ It is 
absurd, but who can tell ? ” 

He next examined into the state of his finances, and 
weighed and re weighed his purse, which was light. Count 
Larinski had once possessed rather a handsome collection of 
jewels. As he had some common sense and ideas of man- 
agement, he looked on his jewels as a reserve fund to be 
always kejDt in the background, and only drew upon it when 
he was in the greatest need. Alas ! he had but two valu- 
able articles left, the bracelet in Mr. Guldenthars hands, and 
a ring set with diamonds, which he wore on his finger. He 
determined before leaving Chur to borrow some money on 
this ring, or to bring himself to sell it. 

For some time he remained sitting at the foot of his bed, 
swinging his legs with his eyes shut. He shut them the 
better to see Mademoiselle Moriaz, and kept repeating : ‘Mt 
is absurd; but who can tell?” It is a fact that we can tell 
nothing, and that anything may happen ; then he called to 
mind a poem of Goethe’s, entitled, VanitasI Vanitatusn 
vanitas ! and repeated these two lines several times : 

“ Nun hab’ich mein Sach auf nichts gestellt, 

Und mein gehort die ganze Welt ! ” 

The meaning of which is : Now that I depend on nothing 
more, the whole world i^ mine. Abel Larinski repeated 
these two lines with a pure accent that woidd have surprised 
Moses Guldenthal. 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


11 


M. Moriaz, after wishing his daughter good-night, and 
giving her his usual kiss on her forehead, had retired to his 
chamber. He was preparing to go to bed, when he heard a 
knock at his door. He half dressed himself again, opened 
it and found a fair-haired young fellow who mshed upon 
him, seized both his hands and shook them most demonstra- 
tively. M. Moriaz disengaged himself and looked wdth a 
startled air at the intruder. 

What,” said the young man, ‘‘ you don^t seem to know 
me ? As sure as you are one of the most illustrious 
chemists of the day, I am Camille Langis, son of your 
greatest friend, a young man of considerable promise, who 
admires you greatly, who has attended your lectures and is 
ready to begin again. Come, dear master, don’t* you re- 
member me ? ” 

‘‘Yes, yes, I remember you, my boy,” replied M. Moriaz, 
“ though you are indeed much changed. When you left us 
you looked a youth, a great boy.” 

“ And now T 

“ Why, now you have grown older and look the young man ; 
but, pray, where do you come from ? I thought you were far 
away in Transylvania.” 

“One can come back, as you see. I arrived in Paris three 
days ago, and went at once to Maisons-Lallitte. Madame de 
Lorcy, who has the supreme honour of being both my aunt 
and Antoinette’s — I beg pardon. Mademoiselle Antoinette 
Moriaz’s godmother, told me that you had been ill, and that 
your doctor had sent you to Switzerland, to St. Moritz, to re- 
cruit. I rushed off in pursuit of you, and missed you this 
morning by an hour at Zurich, but now I have got possession 
of you a^d you will listen to me.” 

“ I give you warning, dear boy, that I am a detestable 
listener at this moment. We have done a town-hall, an 
episcopal palace, a cathedral, and the relics of St. Lucius to- 


12 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


day. I am literally half asleep. Is there any great haste 
about what you have to tell me 1” 

Any great haste ? I have come straight from Hungary to 
ask for your daughter’s hand.” 

M.-Moriaz shook his head and threw up his arms; then, 
resting his elbows on the footboard of his bedstead, said : 
‘‘Could you not wait till to-morrow? If a man wishes to pro- 
pitiate his judge, he does not wake him from his first sleep.” 

“ My dear master, I am exceedingly sorry to bore you, but 
you must really listen to me. Two years ago, I asked you 
for your daughter’s hand for the first time. After having 
consulted Antoinette, — you will allow me to call her An- 
toinette, won’t you? — After consulting her, you told me I was 
too young ; that she did not look at the matter in a serious 
light, and that I had better try again in two years’ time. 
I have been spending those two long years in making a road 
and a suspension bridge in Hungary, and, while building my 
bridge, took a world of trouble to try and forget Antoinette. 
It was impossible ! She is the dream of my youth, and I 
shall never have another. Did you or did you not tell me 
on the 5th of July, 1873, to come again in two years ? This 
is the 5th of July, 1875, and here I am. Am I punctual ? ” 

“ As punctiial as you are wearisome,” rejoined M. Moriaz, 
casting a melancholy glance at his pillow. “ Frankly, is it the 
thing to present yom’self before the President of the Academy 
of Sciences, between eleven and twelve o’clock at night, to tell 
him such tales as these ? It shows a w^ant of respect for the 
Institute. Besides, my dear boy, people change in two years ; 
you are a proof of this, since the stripling has become almost 
a man. You have been wdse to let your imperial grow, there 
is a fine defiant look about it, but while you have been 
changing for the better, how do you know that Antoinette has 
not changed for the worse ? Are vou sure that she is still the 
Antoinette of your dream ?” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


13 


“ Excuse me ; I have just seen her without being myself 
seen. She was walking on your arm in the garden of the 
hotel, which was illuminated in honour of her. She used to 
be charming, she has become adorable. If you would be so 
amazingly kind as to bestow her upon me, I would do anything 
to please you. I would undertake all your little commissions, 
1 would clean your retorts, label your phials, and sweep your 
laboratory. I know German well, I will read all the big 
German books you may wish to consult, I will read them pen 
in hand, and make extracts, yes, written extracts, and as to 

the writing, why it shall be like print Dear master, 

will you give her to mef’ 

‘‘ What an amusing fellow you are ! You imagine that the 
disposal of my daughter rests with me. She and thie moon 
are about equally mine to give. Ever since she cut her 
teeth, she has made her whims my will.” 

Will you permit me, at any rate, to begin to pay my 
addresses to her to-morrow T 

‘‘Take care you don’t, imprudent youth !” cried M. Moriaz, 
“you would destroy your chances for ever. During your 
absence, she has refused two offers, a stock-broker and an 

under secretary at the embassy. Viscount de R , and, 

at this juncture, she has conceived a holy horror of all suitors ! 
She is going with me to St. Moritz to gather flowers and make 
water-colour drawings of them. If you were to think of dis- 
turbing her in her pursuits, if you were to present yourself 
before her as bluntly as a creditor on settling-day, I vow that 
she would refuse payment, and you would have nothing left 
but to return to Hungary.” 

“ Are you sure of this 

“ As sure as I am that sulphuric acid will turn litmus 
paper red.” 

“ And you have the heart to send me back to Paris with- 
out speaking to her?” 


14 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


“ What I say is for your good ; you know whether I wish 
you well.” 

“It is understood and settled then that you will look 
after my interests and plead my cause ? ” 

“ It is settled that I will sound the way and prepare 
the ground — ” 

“ And you will give me tidings soon, and good tidings — 1 
will await them here, at the Steinbock.” 

“As you like ; but, for heaven^s sake, let me get to sleep 
now.” 

M. Camille Langis threw both arms round him and said 
with much emotion : “I put myself in your hands, remem- 
ber that you have to answer for my life.” 

“ Oh, youth I ” murmured M. Moriaz, as he pushed him out. 
“We may try and try, but we shall never invent anything 
finer than that.” 

Ten hours afterwards, a postchaise was bearing Made- 
moiselle Antoinette Moriaz, her father, her companion and 
her maid in the direction of the Engadine. They break- 
fasted tolerably at a village situated at the bottom of a hole 
called Tiefenkasten, which means the deep chest, and a 
deeper was certainly never seen ; then they drove on, and 
towards four in the afternoon reached the entrance of the 
savage defile of Bergunerstein, wliich deserves to be com- 
pared to the Via Mala. The road is hemmed in between a 
wall of rock and a precipice of nearly five hundred feet, at the 
foot of which roar the waters of the Albula. This wild scene 
affected Mademoiselle Moriaz ; she had never seen anything 
of the sort at Cormeilles-en-Parisis. She alighted and 
leaned over the parapet, the better to contemplate the pre- 
cipice, filled with the roar of the foaming torrent. 

Her father having joined her, she asked him if he did 
not think the music charming. 

“ Charming indeed,” he replied ; “ but I am still more 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


15 


charmed by the brave workmen, who, at the risk of breaking 
their necks, constructed this kind of hanging road. I think 
you are admiring the torrent too much and the road too little.” 

And after a pause he added ; “ I hope that our friend 
Camille Langis may have had less trouble in making his.” 

Antoinette turned and looked at her father; then she 
returned to her contemplation of the Albula. 

‘‘ Anyway, he is a man to triumph over difficulties,” re- 
sumed M. Moriaz, caressing his whiskers with the knob of 
his stick. “ He has a youthful appearance which is very de- 
ceptive. The lad is surprisingly precocious ; at twenty he 
came out first from the Ecole Centrale. The best point 
about him is, that in spite of his fortune, he has a passion, a 
mania for work. To be rich and work, is voluntary poverty.” 

A moist, fresh wind blew up from the precipice. Made- 
moiselle Moriaz enveloped her head in a red hood that she 
held in her hand, and scratching with her finger the parapet, 
which sparkled with some grains of mica, she inquired the 
name of the rock. 

‘‘ It is gneiss, a kind of foliated granite ; but do not you 
admire with me people who work when they might do 
nothing ? ” 

“ That means that you have a great admiration for your- 
self.” 

“ Oh, as to myself, necessity made me work when young, 
and I acquired a habit which I cannot get rid of, whereas 
Camille Langis — ” 

“Again 1” she exclaimed, with an impatient gesture. 
“What makes you speak to me of Camille?” 

“ Nothing. He often comes into my mind.” 

“ Don’t let us try to deceive each other. Have you heard 
of him lately ? ” 

“ That reminds me ; I have heard of him through 
Madame de Lorcy.” 


16 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


“ My godmother, Madame de Lorcy, might attend to her 
own business. She is an incorrigible woman.” 

“ What do you wish her to correct ? ” 

‘‘ Her mania for working out my happiness according to 
her own views — I read in your eyes that Camille has re- 
turned to Paris. What has he come to do ?” 

“ I know nothing about it. How should I ? I merely 
presume, I suppose — ” 

“You don’t suppose, you know.” 

“ Not at all ; but as hypothesis is the road that leads 
to science, and as we savants suppose things every day — ” 

She again interrupted him by saying : “ You know I 
have promised him nothing.” 

“ Nothing actually, I agree ; but you commissioned me 
to tell him that you thought him too young. He has 
been labouring conscientiously ever since to cure himself 
of the defect.” And pinching her cheek, he continued : 
“You are made of objections. You will soon be twenty- 
five, and have refused five offers. Have you vo’w^ed to die 
single ? ” 

“ I see no objection, so far as T am concerned.” 

“ But I see many. Consider, pray — ” 

“ Oh, you are merciless,” she exclaimed. “What, now, 
on the banks of the Albula ! You know that of all topics 
of conversatiuii, I find tliis the most distasteful.” 

“ You wrong me, it was an unlucky thought that came 
across me. I spoke to you about Camille as I miglit have 
done about any one else ; you took up arms, and applied it 
all to jmurself.” 

Antoinette was silent for some moments. “You are cer- 
tainly very fond of Camille ! ” she resumed. 

“ Of all the sons-in-law that you might suggest — ” 

“But I do not suggest any.” 

“That is just what I complain of.” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


17 


‘‘ Well then, if you are 6o fond oi this Camille, order me 
to marry him.^^ 

“ If I order, will you obey ? ” 

‘‘ Perhaps, for the novelty of the thing,’' was her laughing 
answer. 

‘‘Naughty girl to make fun of your own father!” he re- 
joined. “ I have been living in slavery for the last twenty 
years, and it is not easy to free oneself in a day. But the 
Grand Monarque deigned to discuss matters with his minis- 
ters. I am Pomponne, let us discuss this.” 

“ You know as well as I that I like Camille very much. 
He is the companion of my childhood, we knew each other 
as tiny children. We played at hide and seek together, and 
he obeyed my every whim. These are charming reminiscences, 
but I remember them too clearly when I see him.” 

“ He has been for two years among the Magyars ; those 
tw^o 3 ^ears count for something.” 

“ Fiddlesticks 1 he will never have any authority over me. 
I mean my husband to rule me.” 

“ That you may have the pleasure of ruling your ruler.” 

“ And then 1 know him too well. I could only fall in 
love with a stranger.” 

“ Was not the Viscount de E, a stranger? ” 

“ I knew him by heart in five minutes. He is like 
every other under-secretary in the w^orld. You may be 
sure that he has not a single idea in his head that is 
really his own. Even his figure is not his own : it is a 
masterpiece, the joint production of his tailor, hairdresser, 
and hosier. Reduce him to himself, and you will see what 
is left.” 

“ By this rule, the first passport to your affections would 
be a lack of shirts.” 

“ If my heart were ever touched, it would be by meeting 
a man different from all the rest that I know. Premising 

B 


18 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


this, I should not absolutely object to his being well sup- 
plie I with linen.” 

M. Moriaz made a gesture of vexation, and walked on to 
rejoin the carriage, which had gone forward. After taking 
twenty steps, he stopped, and turning towards Antoinette, 
who was engaged in pulling her hood down on her shoulders 
and rebuttoning her twelve-buttoned gloves, said : ‘‘I have 
drawn an unlucky number in the grand lottery of this 
world. There are no more romantic girls left; the last 
has fallen to my lot.” 

‘‘You have said the truth, I am a romantic girl,” she 
cried, shaking her pretty curly head with a defiant air, “ and 
if you are wise, you will not urge me to marry, for I am sure 
to make an unsuitable match.” 

“ Lower your voice,” he exclaimed, looking all round, and 
adding : “thank heaven, only the Albula could hear you.” 

M. Moriaz was mistaken. If he had raised his eyes, he 
might have discovered a footpath above the rocky ledge 
which bordered the high road, and, on this path, a pedes- 
trian, resting under a pine-tree. This traveller had come 
from Chur by the diligence. On entering the pass, he left 
his luggage to go on without him to St. Moritz, and alight 
ing with his knapsack on his back, was walking on towards 
Bcrgiin, where, like M. Moriaz, he purposed passing the night. 
Of Antoinette’s conversation with her father he had only 
caught the one plirase she had uttered aloud. This phrase 
had entered his ear like an arrow, and penetrated from 
his ear to the recesses of his l^rain, which began to w^ork. 
This phrase w^as a treasure, and he continued to ponder over 
it, comment on it, and extract all its sweetness till he 
reached the first houses in Bergiin : just as a beggar who 
has picked up a well-lined purse on the dusty road opens 
it, closes it, and re-opens it, counts over his windfall coin 
by coin, and adds it up twenty times in succession. Our 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


19 


traveller dined at the table d’hote ; he was so pre-occupied 
that he ate trout caught in the Albula without noticing 
that they had a peculiar freshness, flavour and delicacy, 
and yet it is notorious that the Albula trout are the finest 
in the world. 

Mademoiselle Moiseney, whose profession and occupation 
was that of chaperone to Mademoiselle Moriaz, was not 
a great genius ; this worthy and excellent person’s faculties 
were very limited, though she was far from being aware of 
it. Her face was not to M. Moriaz’s fancy ; he had begged 
his daughter more than once to dismiss her. Antoinette 
had always refused, from pure kindness of heart ; she did 
not approve of turning away old servants, old dogs, old 
horses, and superannuated governesses. Voltaire’s Candide 
concluded from all that he saw, that the first degree of 
happiness was to be Mademoiselle Cunigunde, and the second 
to see her every day ; Mademoiselle Moiseney considered the 
highest degree of superhuman happiness was to be Mademui- 
selle Antoinette Moriaz, the next to spend one’s life under 
this queen (wlio, though slightly wilful, took care to make 
her subjects happy), and to be able to say : “ I hatched 
the egg that produced this phoenix ; I have my share in 
the prodigy, I taught her Knglish and music.” She had 
a. boundless admiration, amounting to idolatry, for hei 
queen. The English profess that ‘‘the king can do no 
wrong;” Mademoiselle Moiseney maintained that Mademoi 
selle Moriaz could neither do wrong nor fliake a mistake. 
She saw everything through her eyes, espoused her likes 
and dislikes, her sentiments, opinions, rights and wrongs; 
she lived merely a reflected existence, and this glory sufficed 
her. She said to her idol every day : “ How lovely we are 
this morning ! ” almost like the bell-ringer who puffed out 
his cheeks and cried, “ W e T/uit) in good voice, we chanted 
the vespers well to-day.” M. Moriaz found no difficulty in 


20 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


excusing her for admiring his daughter ; but he was vexed 
with her for approving all Antoinette’s ideas, decisions, 
and aversions. “ The woman is not a chaperone,” he said, 
‘‘ but a note of admiration.” He would have been glad to let 
her retire and to fill her place with a strong-minded, sensible 
person, who might have acquired some authority. He 
would have greatly surprised Mademoiselle Moiseney by 
telling her that she was deficient in', sense. The good 
woman prided herself on possessing a great deal, she had 
exalted notions of her excellent judgment, and thought 
herself all but infallible. She discoursed with an oracular 
air on future contingencies, and piqued herself on divining, 
foreseeing, and foretelling everything; she was taken into the 
secrets of the gods. Her Christian name being Jeanne, M. 
Moriaz, who set little store by the calendar, sometimes 
called her Pope Joan, which wounded her cruelly. 

Mademoiselle Moiseney had two failings : she was fond 
of eating and she admired handsome men. Do not let us 
be misunderstood ; she was quite conscious that they were 
not made for her benefit, that she had nothing to offer them, 
that they had nothing to give her. Yet she al\yays felt a 
pleasure in looking at them ; she admired them as simply 
and innocently as a child may admire a bright coloured print 
from Epinal, she would have liked to cut their likeness out 
to hang on a nail and look at next time she read Gonzalvo 
of Cordova,” and “The Last of the Knights,” her two favourite 
romances. During the dinner at Pergiin, her brain had 
been at work, and she had made two reflections. The first 
was that the Albula trout are unrivalled, the second that a 
stranger seated opposite to her had a very fine head; several 
times she had forgotten herself and stopped, with her nose 
and fork upraised, to look at him. 

Antoinette, being a little tired, retired early. Mademois- 
elle Moiseney came to make sure that she had all she wanted. 


SAMUEJL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


21 


and as she was leaving the room, candle in hand, asked her, 
whether she did not think that the stranger had a very 
remarkable countenance. 

‘‘ Of whom are you speaking T’ replied Antoinette. 

“ Of the traveller who sat opposite me.’^ 

‘‘I must confess that I scarcely looked at him.” 

‘‘ Really ! He had splendid eyes, almost green, and as it 
were shot with golden lights.” 

‘‘ What an advantage ! Is his hair green too ? ” 
Chestnut-brown, almost auburn.” 

“ Come now, is it auburn or not ? ” 

“ Don’t laugh at me : he has a singular face, but it is full 
of character and expression, and as handsome as it is strange.” 

‘‘ What enthusiasm ! So far as I could see, his head 
was rather buried between his shoulders.” 

“ What do you say ? ” cried Mademoiselle Moiseney, horri- 
fied. How can you say, my dear child, that his head was 
buried in his shoulders ?” 

“ Well,, don’t fight about it, I am ready to retract. Good 
night. Mademoiselle — By-the-bye, did you know that M. 
Camille Langis had returned to Paris ? ” 

“ I did not know, but you can tell mo nothing. I have 
guessed it, I was sure of it. ' And of course you think that 

he has returned with the intention of ” ‘H think,” broke 

in Antoinette, ‘‘ that M. Langis is the man whom it costs me 
more to pain than any other in the world. I think too that 
fidelity is sometimes most distressing ; as a rule, we lose 
our dogs occasionally, but never when we wish to be rid of 
them; I think that a woman makes a bad bargain if she 
marries a man whose friendship she values ; in gaining a 
husband, she is sure to lose a friend.” 

“It is quite true ! you are always right,” cried Made- 
moiselle Moiseney. “Has M. Langis forgotten you thought 
him too young? Three and twenty !” 


22 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


‘‘ Pie has so little forgotten it, that he has contrived, how 
I don’t know, to become five and twenty by this time. How 
can I witlistand such a proof of affection ? I shall be obliged 
to marry him.^' 

“ There is no reason, people don’t marry out of pity,” re- 
joined Mademoiselle Moiseney. 

Good night, dear,” said Antoinette, as she dismissed her, 
“ don’t dream too much of your stranger. I assure you he 
is rather pinched in at the waist; but no matter ! If your' 
heart is lost, I will undertake to arrange matters.” ‘‘ How 
amusing it must be to make matches for others ! ” she 
added. 

Next morning. Mademoiselle Moiseney made the stranger’s 
acquaintance. Mademoiselle Moriaz wished to make a sketch 
before leaving Bergiin, and had gone out early with her 
father. Mademoiselle Moiseney went down into the hotel 
drawing-room, and seeing a piano, she opened it and played a 
fantasia of Schumann’s ; she was a fair musician. As she 
finished the piece, Count Abel Larinski, the green-eyed man, 
who had entered without her seeing him, came up to thank 
her for the pleasure she had given him in listening to her : 
but he ventured to point out that she had not observed the 
time, an andantino ought not to be confounded with an 
andante. At her request, he in his turn sat down to the 
piano and played the andantino like a professional. Made- 
moiselle Moiseney, ready to be enthusiastic, declared him a 
Liszt or a Chopin, and begged him to favour her with another 
piece, to which he readily consented. 

After this, they chatted about music and many other 
things. The green-eyed man was like Socrates in one thing, 
he was a master in the art of interrogation, and Mademoiselle 
Moiseney was fond of talking. She liked best to talk about 
Mademoiselle Antoinette Moriaz, and, when started on this 
topic, became as eloquent as an auctioneer. At the end 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


23 


of half an hour, Count Abel was in full possession of 
Mademoiselle Moriaz’s disposition and position. He knew 
that she had a sterling heart, a mind free from prejudice, a 
generous soul, a love of everything chivalrous and heroic ; 
he knew that she devoted two days in the week to visiting 
the poor, and considered them in the light of natural cre- 
ditors to whom she was bound to make restitution. He 
knew also that Mademoiselle Moriaz was the better able 
to gratify her charitable instincts from her mother having left 
her an income of a hundred thousand francs. He learnt too 
that she danced perfectly, could draw divinely, read Italian, 
and speak English. These latter details interested Count 
Abel but slightly. St. Paul has said: “Though I speak 
with the tongue of men and of angels, and have not charity, 
I am nothing.” The Count was of St. Paul’s opinion, and 
if Mademoiselle Moriaz had neither known how to speak 
English, nor even how to draw or dance, ii, would not have 
diminished the respect he entertained for her. The essential 
points, in his eyes, were her benevolence to the poor and a 
slight leaning towards heroes. 

When he had learned, in an easy manner, all that he 
wanted to know, he bowed respectfully to Mademoiselle 
Moiseney, to whom he did not mention his name, and, with- 
out awaiting Antoinette’s return, strapped up his knapsack, 
put it over his shoulders, payed his bill, and set out to 
climb, by a rapid ascent, the Albula Pass, which leads into 
the Engadine. It would be difficult to find a sadder, barer, 
wilder, gloomier, and more indescribably desolate spot in all 
the Alps than the Albula Pass. The road winds through a 
frightful chaos of rocks, piled over one another in monstrous 
disorder. On reaching the summit of the hill. Count Abel 
felt obliged to take breath. He climbed a hillock and sat 
down. At his feet opened the yawning mouth of a cavern 
blocked by some large tufts of darkleaved wolf’s-bane ; these 


24 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


tufts of wolfs-bane might have been supposed to be keeping 
guard over a crime in which they had been accomplices. 
Abel surveyed the frigiitful solitude which surrounded him ; 
enormous blocks everywhere, scattered or piled up, some 
lying on their side, others erect or leaning over. It seemed 
to him as though these blocks had once played a part in the 
games of inebriated titans, who, after having used them as 
bowls or bones, had ended by throwing them at each other’s 
heads. It is more likely that whoever made the Albiila Pass, 
terrified and confused by the hideous appearance of his w^ork, 
had avenged himself on it by knocking it to pieces with an 
enormous hammer. 

A tinkling of bells reached Count Abel’s ears, and he saw 
a postchaisg coming from the Engadine and driving towards 
Bergiin. It w^as a large open landau, and contained a woman 
of sixty, accompanied by her servants and her pug. This 
woman had a rather square head, a flattish nose, high cheek 
bones, bright eyes and a large mouth, on which played a 
wdtty, imperious and contemptuous smile. Abel turned pale 
and shuddered: he kept his eyes fixed on the mongolian face, 
which he thought he had recognised from afar. He said to 
himself ; Yes, it is she.” He raised his cloak collar up to 
his face and disappeared as much as is practicable when 
sitting on the top of a hillock. It was six years since he 
had seen this w’oman. and he had promised himself never to 
see her again ; but man is the plaything of circumstances, 
and both his happiness and pride are at the mercy of a 
chance meeting. Count Abel Avas no longer proud ; for 
some minutes he w^as annihilated and ceased to exist. 

Fortunately, he perceived that he had not been recognised, 
that the woman of sixty was not looking his way. She w\as 
a person of taste, and finding the country through which she 
was passing and which is called the Vallee-du-Diable, very 
ugly, she had opened a volume bound in morocco, which her 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


25 


maid had just handed to her. This volume was not a new 
novel, but a German book called ‘‘A History of Civiliza- 
tion from the Evolutionist’s point of view, from the most 
diott'.uit ages down to our own time.” She had not made much 
progress in her book, or the history of civilization ; she had 
not reached the stone or bronze age, but was still among the 
primeval animals, among protozoa, monads, vibrios, bacteria, 
and leptothrix, in the age of albumen or gelatinous civiliza- 
tion, as it was termed by the author whose views and discri- 
mination charmed her. She never broke off in her reading 
save to administer from time to time a slight tap on the nose 
of the pug snoring in her lap, and she was very far from sus- 
pecting that Count Abel Larinski was there and looking 
at her. 

He saw the landau pass before him ; it did not stop, and 
was soon rolling down towards Bergiin. Then a weight 
seemed lifted from his heart, and it began to beat freely. 
The landau was rolling rapidly away, moving at full 
speed ; the count followed it with his best wishes, smoothing 
the road before it, and removing every pebble that might 
have slackened its pace. It was about to disappear at a turn 
in the road, wlicn it passed another post-chaise slowly 
ascending, in which he saw a red dot; this was Mademoiselle 
Antoinette Moriaz’s hood. The next instant, the landau had 
vanished ; it seemed to him that the phantom of his sad 
youth, suddenly etnerging from the realm of shadows, had 
departed for ever, and that the fairy of hope, she who holds 
the secrets of the future, was coming towards him, her head 
draped with red, flowers in her hands, and sunlight in her 
eyes. A rift came in the clouds ; the shadow brooding over 
the Yallee-du-Diable lifted, and the awful solitude began to 
smile. Count Abel rose, picked up his stick, and gave him- 
self a shake. On passing in front of the^savern, he discovered, 
among the tufts of w^olf’s-bane which blocked its mouth, a 


26 


aAJtfTlKI. BROHJj partner. 


grassy hollow, and perceived that this hollow was ornamented 
with some pretty blue flowers, whose bells swung gaily at 
the will of the wind. He plucked one of them, put it to his 
mouth, and liked the taste of it. Half an hour after, he left 
the road to thread a path intersecting some pastures and a 
larch forest. 

Night was falling as he reached the bottom of the valley. 
He passed through the hamlet of Crest a, crossed a bridge, and 
found himself at the entrance of the village of Cellerina, 
twenty-five minutes’ distance from St. Moritz. After some 
deliberation, he resolved to go no further, and entered a clean, 
pleasant inn, freshly whitewashed. 

The air in the Engadine is so keen that people rarely 
sleep during the first few nights of their stay. Count 
Larinski scarcely slept in his new quarters. Would he have 
slept better in the plain? His thoughts tormented him. 
What was he thinking of? Of the Cathedral at Chur, the 
Vall6e-du-Diable, the tufts of wolfs-bane, the blue bells, and 
the meeting of the ascending and descending post-chaises. 
After that, he saw nothing but a scarlet hood, and his eyes 
were open when the first rays of morning entered his cham- 
ber. Eagles sleep little when they are about to sally forth 
in quest of prey. 


dlTAPTEK IT. 


According to many people, the baths of St. ]\Toritz are not 
particularly amusing, and no one is sent to them but those 
who are suffering seriously from anoemia, and who are really 
anxious to regain health and strength. The air the invalids 
breathe and the iron water they drink, which tastes like ink, 
have wrought more than one real miracle ; but the patient 
must have strength enough to bear their effects. ‘‘lam 
delighted to have tried them,” an invalid once remarked to 
us, “ tliey did not kill me outright, and this proves that 
henceforth I can stand anything.” This was, however, the 
outburst of an ungrateful man. 

The valley of the Upper Engadine, where St. Moritz lies, 
has, like the baths, its calumniators and its admirers. This 
narrow valley, through which the Inn runs, is bare down be- 
low, and hemmed in by mountains whose slopes bristle w'ith 
pinewoods, larches or Alpine cedars, and it lies 5,000 feet 
above the level of the sea. It occasionally snows there in 
August, but the fine weather is delicious, and romantic green 
lakes are to be seen, glittering like emeralds in the sunlight. 
Those who slander them by comparing them to washing- 
basins are perverse people, whose ailments will not yield to 
iron, iodine, or sulphur. 

One thing these perverse people cannot gainsay, that it is 
difficult, not to say impossible, to find on any mountains more 
fliower-strewn and perfumed alps than those of the Engadine. 
We do not speak of the rhododendron, whose bushes abound 


28 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


by the edge of the lakes ; we care little for this stunted pre- 
tentious shrub, whose flowers look as if they were made in 
wax for the decoration of an altar; but is it not delightful to 
walk on sward black with the vanille-scented nigritella ? 
And what do you say to the larger and smaller gentians, 
to the large yellow arnicas, to the handsome Turk-cap and 
St. Bruno lilies, to the daphne, to the androsace and its pink 
tufts, to the red and dark orchis, to all the varieties of saxi- 
frage, to the large hairy campanula, and pretty violet asters 
mufllod in a little cravat to protect them from the cold ? 
Besides, around chasms where the cattle have made tracks 
and steps, that sort of felty everlasting is to be gathered, 
which they call the “ edelweiss ” or cotton-plant of the Alps 
— an object coveted by eveiy visitor to the baths. Higher up 
near the glaciers, may be found white pansies, and the 
alpine anemone and ranunculus ; higher yet on the edge of 
the snow fields, and often buried in the snow, flourishes that 
charming little lilac blossom, delicately fringed, chilly and 
shivering, which bears the name of soldanella. Can any dis- 
covery in life be more charming than to scratch away the snow 
and find a flower beneath ? 

As a set-off to this, we must concede that the one street 
of St. Moritz is very unlike the Bue de la Paix. W e must 
concede too that the local markets are poorly supplied with 
provisions, and that while breathing an air stimulating to the 
appetite the means of satisfying it are not always forth- 
coming. We cannot have everything, and we are not advis- 
ing any one to establish himself permanently in the Engadine. 
Yet there must be some charm in this vallej^ since its 
inhabitants emigrate in their youth, and having made 
money, return to spend their old age in their native district, 
where they build themselves handsome enough houses. 

Mademoiselle Moriaz did not dislike St. Moritz; she en- 
joyed the wild scenery and the pine-woods. She liked to look 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


29 


down from the top of the terrace of the Hotel Badriitt 
upon the green lake sleeping at her feet, and never thought 
of complaining that its shape was that of a washing basin. 
Then she liked seeing the cows returning from their pastures 
at night in procession. The cow-herd brings back his army 
in good order, announced from afar by its tinkling bells. 
Each cow stops of her own accord before the door of her ship- 
pen, and lows for admission. When tliey me turned out ni 
the morning, they wait for the procession to come by when 
each takes her own place in its ranks. The first time 
that Mademoiselle Moriaz was present at this ceremony, she 
thought it quite as interesting as a first performance at the 
Theatre Frangais or the Opera. 

There were some rainy days which she spent in read- 
ing, painting, and studying the creatures of both sexes whom 
she met at the table d’hote. She soon made plenty of work 
for herself. Her mind and heart were so active, that she 
could not be in any place for a week without finding some 
charitable work to be done. A woman keeping a mercer’s 
shop, to whom Antoinette had taken a fancy, introduced 
her daughter, who was being brought up for a schoolmistress, 
and wanted to learn drawing. Antoinette undertook to give 
her lessons. She would have her come to the hotel every 
day, and kept her several hours. She repi cached her r.upil 
with her dulness of comprehension, and occasionally scolded 
her, but made up for these outbursts by caresses. 

The weather cleared, and she took advantage of it to go 
out walking ; she climbed up slopes and stretches of slippery 
turf, in hopes of finding some rare plants ; but her strength 
not being equal to her spirit, she was unable to ascend to the 
hollows where the edelweiss grew. The week after her arrival 
brought her a surprise, and even a degree of emotion, which 
formed no part of the stated programme of pleasures which 
the proprietor of the Hotel Badrutt undertakes to provide 


30 


SAMUEL BROHL ANJJ PARTNER. 


for his guests. On returning from an excursion to the lake 
of Silvaplana, she found in her room a basket containing a 
regular sheaf of freshly gathered Alpine flowers, and among 
them not merely a profusion of edelweiss, but some rare 
plants, and, rarest of all, a certain creeping campanula with 
an apricot perfume, which, save in some districts of the 
Engadine, is now found only in Siberia. This splendid 
bouquet was accompanied by a note which ran thus : 

“ A man who had had enough of life determined to hang 
himself. To carry out his design, he had fixed on a sad and 
solitary spot, where nothing grew but an oak, whose sap 
was beginning to fail. As he was fastening the cord, 
a bird perched on the dying tree and began to sing. ' The 
man said to himself : Since no place is so gloomy that a bird 
cannot be found to sing there, I will take courage to live on. 
And he did live on. 

“I came to this valley disgusted with life, sad and weary 
to death. I saw you pass, and some mysterious influence 
took possession of me. I shall live. 

‘‘What do I care? you will say as you read these lines, 
and you are right. My sole excuse for having written them 
is that I am leaving in a few days, that you will never see 
me, and never know who I am.” 

Antoinette’s first impression was one of profound astonish- 
ment ; she would have thought there was some mistake, had 
not her Christian and surname been written in full on the 
envelope. Her second inpulse was to laugh at her adven- 
ture. She did full justice to Mademoiselle Moriaz, and was 
quite aware that she was not like every one else, but she was 
scarcely prepared to admit that her beauty could work 
miracles and resurrectiqns, and that a hypochondriac could 
recover his zest for life simply from seeing her pass. Her 
curiosity led her to make inquiries ; the flowers and letter 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


31 


had been brought by a little peasant who did not belong to 
the place, and was not to be found. Antoinette examined 
the visitors^ book, but did not discover in it the same hand- 
writing as the note. She studied the faces around her ; there 
was not one romantic countenance in all the hotel. She 
soon gave up the search. She liked the bouquet and kept it 
as a present that had fallen from the sky, the note she laid 
by as a curiosity, without troubling her head any further 
about its writer. “ Let us talk no more about it, it must 
have been some madman,’^ she replied one day to Made- 
moiselle Moiseney, who was constantly recurring to the in- 
cident, and burning to solve the mystery. The good lady was 
tempted to stop people on the road and ask : “Was it 
youT’ She might possibly have suspected the Bergiin 
stranger of some share in the matter, bad she surmised that 
he had been at St. Moritz, where she had never come across 
him. Yet he came there every day, but at his own hours ; 
besides, the hotels were crammed, the courtyard of the hotel 
belonging to the baths was thronged, and it was easy for him 
to disappear in the crowd. 

To tell the truth, when Count Abel Larinski came to St. 
Moritz, he devoted less attention to Mademoiselle Antoinette 
Moriaz than to a certain illustrious chemist. The air of 
the Engadine and the inky-flavoured water had worked 
wonders ; in a week, M. Moriaz felt another man. He had 
a formidable appetite, and could walk for hours together 
without feeling tired. He expended his retiring strength 
in scouring the mountains without a guide, hammer in 
hand ; every day, in spite of his daughter’s remonstrances, 
he pushed his enterprises still further. The more learned 
people are, the more inquisitive they become, and the more 
inquisitive they are, they further they can go without feel- 
ing fatigue; they only perceive it as they return. M. 
pev^r suspected that in these solitary ej^cursiops 


32 


SAHUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


he was accompanied from afar by a stranger, whose keen 
ear and eye watched over him like a guardian angel. The 
peculiarity of this guardian angel was his willingness to 
have set him fast in some difficult situation, or pushed him 
into a bog for the pleasure of pulling him out and bearing 
him in his arms to the Hotel Badrutt. “Oh, that he would 
fall into a hole and break his leg !” w^as Count Abel 
Larinski’s daily wish ; but a providence watches over savants. 
Although M. Moriaz was both rather corpulent and absent- 
minded, he crossed more than one bog without being 
engulphed, and more than one swamp without sinking 
into it. 

One morning he took it into his head to climb up to 
the snowfields which cover the bottom of an amphitheatre, 
formed by two ridges of rock, above a forest of pine and larch. 
He was not yet accustomed to a mountainous country, where 
distances are often deceptive. After drinking three large 
glasses of iron water and breakfasting heartily, he started, 
crossed the Inn, and began to ascend through the forest. 
The hill became steeper and steeper, and the track which he 
had followed soon ceased. It was not easy to turn back ; he 
went on climbing, clutching at the bushes, brushing away 
with his feet the treacherous fir-needles which fgrmed a 
carpet as slippery as ice, making three steps forward and two 
backward. The perspiration hung on him in large drops ; 
he sat down for a minute to wipe his forehead, and hoped 
that some wood-cutter might pass by and put him on the 
path again, if path there were. As no one appeared, he 
summoned up courage and went on climbing till he came 
close to a ridge of rocks, in which he vainly sought an open- 
ing. He was about to turn, when he remembered having 
noticed this ridge of reddish rocks from the gallery of the 
hotel, he thought he remembered also that it formed a kind 
of spur from the snowfield^ and thus concluded that it must 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER 


33 


be the last obstacle he had to overcome. It seemed 
humiliating to come so near his goal and relinquish his 
purpose. The rock, weather-beaten and worn away by frost, 
presented clefts and hollows, a kind of natural staircase. 
Summoning all his powers, and using his nails, he 
managed to scramble up, and in five minutes reached a kind 
of terrace, bounded, unluckily, by a wall of granite, 
perfectly smooth and appallingly high. There was nothing 
for it but to return by the way he had come; but in perilous 
places it is easier to ascend than descend ; in the one case 
you can choose your steps, in the other, you must go at 
random. M. Moriaz could not venture to act at random. 

He walked all along the terrace on which he found himself, 
in hopes of discovering some way down; it was bounded at 
the end by a torrent, whose muddy waters roared and 
foamed. The torrent was too wide for a stride, and there 
was no possibility of wading through it. M. Moriaz, finding 
his retreat cut off, began to regret his boldness. Seized by 
intense anxiety, he asked himself whether he were not con- 
denmed to end his days in this eyrie; he envied the happiness 
enjoyed ^by the inhabitants of the plains, and cast looks of 
alarm at the cursed wall which kept him a prisoner, and 
seemed by its gloomy aspect to reproach him for his im- 
prudence. He felt as if the human mind had never invented 
anything finer than a high road, and was almost prepared to 
exclaim with Panurge; ‘‘Oh, how trebly and quadruply 
happy are those who plant cabbages !” 

Though there was little chance of any one hearing him 
in'this solitude, he shouted again and again, having great 
difficulty in making his voice heard above the noise of 
the torrent. Suddenly he thought he heard from below a 
voice answering him in the distance. He redoubled his 
shouts, the voice seemed to approach, and presently he saw 
emerging from the thicket, which clothed the opposite bank 

0 


S4 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER, 


of the stream, a face with a pale complexion and chestnut 
beard, which he remembered having met in the cathedral 
at Chui’ and having again seen at Bergiin. 

“ You are imprisoned up there, I see, sir,” cried Count 
Lariniski. “ Have patience for a minute and I will be with 
you.” His countenance beamed with joy; at last he had 
run down the precious prize he had pursued so long. 

Off he bounded with the agility of a chamois. At the end 
of twenty minutes he reappeared, carrying on his shoulder a 
long plank which he had torn from a pasture-fence. He 
threw it over the torrent, steadied it as well as he could, 
crossed the bridge thus improvised by his genius, and 
joined M. Moriaz, who was longing to embrace him. 

“Mountains are the most treacherous things in the 
world,” said the Count. “They are haunted by some 
hobgoblin who plays mischievous tricks on daring people ; 
but all’s well that ends well. Before starting again, you 
must need some refreshment. The raw air of these high 
regions is terribly exhausting to the stomach. I am more 
prudent than you, and never set out on a voyage without 
biscuits — How pale you are ! ” he added, gazing on him with 
sympathetic and almost affectionate eyes. “Pray put on my 
overcoat, I will wrap myself in my plaid, and we shall 
both be warm.” 

So saying, he divested himself of his wrap to place it at 
the service of M. Moriaz, who, feeling half frozen, made but 
feeble resistance and donned the overcoat, though he had 
some difficulty in getting his arms through the sleeves. 

Meanwhile, Count Abel had thrown down the wallet 
which he carried slung on his back. He took out a loaf, 
some hard-boiled eggs, a venison pasty, and a bottle of ex- 
cellent Burgundy. He spread out the provisions, and then 
offering M. Moriaz a cup carved from a cocoa-nut shell, filled 
it up to the brim, saying : “ This will do you good.” M. 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


35 


Moriaz emptied the cup, and soon felt his discomfort vanish. 
His good humour returned, and he gave his Amphitryon an 
amusing account of his deplorable Odyssey ; Abel narrated 
an adventure of the same kind that had befallen him on 
the Carpathian mountains. It is easy to take a fancy to a 
man who has rescued you from a perilous position, who 
gives you drink when you are thirsty, and food when you 
are hungry but if M. Moriaz had not been under great 
obligations to Count Larinski, he could not have helped 
acknowledging that this agreeable stranger was a man of 
good breeding and pleasant conversation. 

However, as the meal came to an end, he said; “We 
are forgetting everything while talking. I am the happy 
father of a charming daughter with a lively imagination. 
She will be fancying I am killed, I must go and reassure her 
at once.” 

Count Abel gave M. Moriaz his hand to help him to 
keep his balance while crossing the narrow plank. Through- 
out the* descent he showed him many little attentions, 
supporting him with his arm at the steepest parts. 
As soon as they had found the path, they began to con- 
verse again. Abel had ideas on every subject, and Socrates’ 
gift for interrogation, as we have said. M. Moriaz was en- 
chanted by the way he put his questions ; in his quality of 
professor at the College de France, he felt glad that the 
man to whom he owed his life was an intelligent one. 

As they were traversing a pine wood, they heard a voice 
hailing them, and were soon joined by a guide, whom 
Mademoiselle Moriaz, terribly anxious at her father’s pro- 
longed absence, had despatched in search of him. They 
came upon her at the foot of the mountain, accompanied 
by Mademoiselle Moiseney. Pale with emotion, her 
strength failing her, she had seated herself on the edge of a 
hollow. She was consumed with anguish, fancying that 


36 SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 

she saw her father lying half dead at the bottom of a 
precipice or a crevasse. On catching sight of him, she 
gave a scream of joy and ran to meet him. 

‘‘Well, yes, my dear,^’ he said, “I have been more 
fortunate than prudent. I must ask my deliverer’s name 
to introduce him to you.” 

Count Abel seemed not to have heard these last words. 
He stammered out that M. Moriaz exaggerated the value 
of the slight service he had been so happy as to render him, 
and bowing to Antoinette with a cold, dignified, and almost 
formal air, he took leave, like a man who has no wish to 
make fresh acquaintances and longs to return to his solitude. 

He was already at some distance before M. Moriaz, 
occupied in telling his daughter his story, bethought him 
that he had kept his deliverer’s overcoat. He felt in the 
pockets and found a note-book and some visiting-cards 
which bore the name of Count Abel Larinski. Before 
dinner he had gone round to all the hotels in St. Moritz 
without being able to discover where M. Larinski was stay- 
ing. In the com’se of the evening he learnt it from a 
peasant who came from Cellerina to fetch the coat. 

The woHhy Mademoiselle Moiseney was favourably dis- 
posed to Count Abel, first because he was handsome, and 
then because he played the piano so delightfully. She 
felt sure that Antoinette must be grateful to this excellent 
musician for having rescued her father ; certain of being no 
longer rebuffed for her enthusiasm, she said to her that 
same evening, with a smile that she meant to be mischievous ; 

“Well, my dear, do you still think that Count Larinski’s 
head is buried in his shoulders ? ” 

“It is of little consequence, but I do not retract my 
opinion.” 

“ Oh, if you could but hear him play one of Schumann’s 
romances 1 — ” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


37 


“ A charming talent. But in my eyes his chief merit is 
his capacity for rescuing others.” 

Oh, I felt sure, perfectly convinced, that he had a large 
heart and a good disposition. I understand physiognomy 
and don’t need to see people twice to form my opinion of 
them.” 

After a pause she resumed : “ May I venture to tell you 
an idea that has occurred to me, my dear % ” 

“ Tell me, your ideas often amuse me.” 

‘‘Is it not possible that Count Abel Larinski might be 
the sender of a certain note and present ? ” 

“ Why he sooner than any one else ^ ” returned Antoin- 
ette. “ I think you wrong him, he looks like a well-bred 
man, and no well-bred man writes anonymous letters.” 

“ Oh, that one was perfectly innocent, and you may be 
sure he wrote it in good faith.” 

“ Then you think. Mademoiselle, that a man on the point 
of slipping a noose round his neck might abandon his 
design in good faith because he met Mademoiselle Antoin- 
ette Moriaz on the high road ? ” 

“Why not?” replied Mademoiselle Moiseney, looking at 
her with admiring eyes. “ Besides, you know that Poles are 
rather impetuous and apt to be carried away by enthusiasm. 
Count Larinski may be forgiven for what would be inex- 
cusable in a Parisian.” 

“ I forgive him on condition that he keeps his promise 
never to violate his incognito, the first duty of an un- 
known. He refused to let my father introduce him to me, 
which is certainly in his favour. If he reconsiders his 
determination, he is condemned — I am sorry for you, my 
dear Jeanne,” added Antoinette with a laugh. “You are 
dying to hear one of those songs without words which M. 
Larinski plays so well, and if M. Larinski be the writer of 
the letter, his own confession should prevent him from ever 


38 


SA.MUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


coming into my presence. How will yon escape from this 
dilemma? It is embarrassing.” 

It was M. Moriaz who undertook to settle this embarras- 
sing matter. Three days later, a few minutes before dinner, 
he was walking in the courtyard of the hotel, smoking a 
cigar. He saw Count Abel pass along the road on his 
way back to Cellerina. The weather was stormy, and a 
few drops of rain had begun to fall. M. Moriaz ran after 
the Count and caught him by the button, saying : “ You 
have saved my life, let me save you from the rain. Do 
me the honour to share our dinner ; we will have it served 
in our own sitting-room.” 

Abel declined to accept this invitation, and alleged 
reasons which sounded like mere excuses. The thunder be- 
gan to growl. M. Moriaz took his man by the arm and 
dragged him in by main force. He introduced him to his 
daughter, saying : “ Antoinette, here is Count Larinski, a 
valuable but unsociable man. I have had to use force to 
get him here.” 

The Count replied to this speech by a constrained smile. 
He seemed to feel himself a prisoner ; but as he prided him- 
self on good manners and philosophy, bore his imprisonment 
with a fair grace. During dinner he was grave. He treated 
Antoinette with rather distant politeness, was attentive to 
Mademoiselle Moiseney, but reserved his ardour for M. 
Moriaz. Ha addressed him by preference, listened to him 
with great attention, and drank in his words ; a professor 
is always sensible to this species of courtesy. After 
coffee, Count Abel’s reserve thawed. He had been all over 
the 'v^orld ; he knew the United States and Turkey, New 
Orleans and Bucharest, San Francisco and Constantinople. 
He had profited by his travels, he had observed men and 
things, countries and institutions, manners and laws, natives 
and travellers, everything indeed, except the women, 


SAilUEL BtlOHL AND PARTNER. 


39 


whom he seemed to have had no time to devote ; at least 
they never figured in his conversation. He told some 
anecdotes well ; his melancholy vanished, he had intervals 
of cheerfulness, and Antoinette could not refrain from 
mentally comparing his face* and conversation to the rather 
austere landscapes of the Engadine, where lilies, gentians, 
and lakes are to be found under the shade of black pines 
among the rocks. 

His gravity returned as he replied to a question M. Moriaz 
had asked about Poland. ‘‘ Our poor Poland ! ’’ he exclaimed. 
“The Jew is its master now. Active, clever, inventive, and 
unscrupulous, he lives on our idleness and improvidence; 
he possesses the great advantage over us of looking forward 
to the morrow, while we live only for to-day. We despise 
him, but we cannot do without him. We are always thirsty, 
and he gives us to drink ; we never have any ready money, 
he lends it us at the rate of fifty per cent; we cannot repay 
it, and he recoups himself by taking away our furniture, our 
jewels, our estates and houses. We avenge ourselves on him 
by insolence, and at times by petty persecutions, and are no 
readier than our Roumanian neighbours to perceive that the 
only way to banish the Jew is to rid ourselves of the vices 
on which he fliourishes.” Count Abel added, that, for his 
part, he had no prejudice against the children of Abraham, 
and quoted the speech of an Austrian writer, who says : 
“Every country has the Jews it deserves.” “And indeed,” 
he continued, “both in England and France, and wherever 
they are treated on a footing of equality, they become one of 
the healthiest and most vigorous elements in the nation, while 
they are the scourge and the leech of the country that per- 
secutes them.” 

“ And that is but justice,” exclaimed Mademoiselle Moriaz. 

The count addressed himself directly to her for the first 
time, saying: 


40 SAMUEL BROHl AND t>ARTN^R. 

“ What, mademoiselle, you are a woman and love justice V 

“ Does that astonish you ? she replied. “ Do you think 
it is a virtue to which we are unaccustomed ? ” 

“A woman whom I know, he returned, maintained that 
it would be doing this poor worM an ill service to suppress 
all injustice, since it would suppress charity at the same 
time.” 

“ I am not of that opinion,” said she ; “ when I give, I feel 
as if I were making restitution.” 

“ She is a little Socialist,” exclaimed her father. “ I find 
that out in January every year, when I make up her accounts, 
and it is well she puts them into my hands, for she cannot 
make head nor tail of the balance sheets her banker sends 
her.” 

‘‘ I am proud for Poland’s sake that Mademoiselle Moriaz 
has a Polish failing,” said Abel Larinski, gallantly. 

‘‘ Is it a failing h ” said Antoinette. 

“Arithmetic is the first of sciences and the parent of 
safety,” replied M. Moriaz. And turning to the count, he 
added ; “ She is a dangerous character ; her principles are 
quite revolutionary, dangerous to public order and the well- 
being of society. She maintains that those who are devoid 
of the necessaries of life have a right to its luxuri&, because 
otherwise they would have nothing at all.” 

“That seems to me self-evident,” said she. 

“ For instance,” resumed M. Moriaz, “ among her proteges 
there is a certain Mademoiselle Galet or Galard ” 

“ Galet,” said Mademoiselle Moiseney with an air of im- 
portance ; she had been waiting impatiently for an opportu- 
nity of putting in a word. 

“ This Mademoiselle Leontine Galet, who lives at No. 25 
Rue Mouffetard — ” 

“ No. 27,” again interposed Mademoiselle Moiseney in a 
positive tone. 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


41 


‘‘As usual, you are certain, perfectly certain. Well! I 
was saying that Mademoiselle Galard or Galet, who lives at 
No. 25 or 27 Rue Mouffetard, was once an artificial flower 
maker by trade, and is now without a penny. I do not mean 
to probe the mysteries of her past life ; lightly come is lightly 

gone. What is certain is that Mademoiselle Galard ” 

“ Galet,’^ said Mademoiselle Moiseney, sharply. 

“ Is now merely an aged sufferer who deserves the com- 
passion of the charitable. Mademoiselle Moriaz makes her 
an allowance, to which I have no objection; but Made- 
moiselle Galet — I beg pardon. Mademoiselle Galard, has re- 
tained a love of flowers from her former calling, and through- 
out the winter Mademoiselle Moriaz sends her every week 
bouquets costing on an average ten or twelve francs a piece, 
which seems to me a want of common sense. Last January, 
she procured some Parma violets for her. I appeal to M. 
Larinski. Is it reasonable or absurd ? ” 

“It is admirably absurd, and absm’dly admirable,” re- 
plied the count. 

“ The flowers I give her will never be so lovely as those I 
had sent me the other day,” exclaimed Mademoiselle Moriaz. 

She went into the adjoining room to fetch the vase into 
which she had put her mysterious bouquet, and having 
brought it, said to the count ; “ What do you think of it ? 
They are rather faded now, but what remains is lovely still.” 

He admired the bouquet, but though she looked at him 
fixedly, she could detect neither embarrassment nor height- 
ened colour on his face. “It is not he,” said she to herself. 
There was a piano in the room where they had dined. As 
Count Abel w^as taking leave, Mademoiselle Moiseney begged 
him to give Mademoiselle Moriaz a specimen of his talent. 
He frowned slightly, and resumed the gloomy and rather wild 
air which he had worn on meeting Antoinette at the foot of 
the mountain. He pleaded the lateness of the hour, but 


42 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


allowed a promise to be extorted from him to be more com- 
pliant the following day. 

When he had departed, accompanied by M. Moriaz, who 
was going to walk part of the way with him : You see, my 
dear, that it was not he,” cried Antoinette. 

“We will admit that I was mistaken,” replied Mademois- 
selle Moiseney with an aggrieved air. “ You will at least 
allow him to be handsome ? ” 

“ As handsome as you please. Do you know what I think 
of when I look at him '? A haunted castle. I should like to 
know what ghosts inhabit it.” 

In spite of his promise. Count Larinski was three days be- 
fore he came again, but this time he played whatever they 
wished. His musical memory was surprising, and his soul 
was in his finger-tips ; he produced marvellous effects from a 
very mediocre instrument. He sang too ; his voice was a rich, 
mellow, touching baritone. After humming some Roumanian 
songs, he struck up one of his national airs. He could not 
finish it, tears came into his eyes, and his voice was choked 
with emotion. He broke off, offering excuses for being so 
weak and making himself so ridiculous ; but a glance at 
Mademoiselle Moriaz was enough to convince him that she 
had not thought him ridiculous. 

A Pole who can talk and sing is a valuable resource in 
a mountainons country, where the evenings are long. M. 
Moriaz liked music, and there was something he liked still 
better. When he did not go into society and w^as not allowed 
to work, he was inclined to go to sleep after dinner ; to 
rouse himself, he liked to play bezique or ecarte. For want 
of any one else, he used to play with Mademoiselle Moiseney, 
but did not enjoy it ; he disliked coming into such close 
contact with Pope Joan’s pinched face and yellow ribbons. 
He proposed a game to Count Larinski, who accepted with the 
best grace in the world. “The man is ready for anything,” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


43 


thought M. Moriaz, and he took a great fancy to him. The 
result was that Count Abel spent every evening for a week 
at the Hotel Badrutt. 

“ Your father is a strange man/^ said MademoiseY* 
Moiseney indignantly to Antoinette. His selfishness is 
revolting. He appropriates M. Larinski completely. The 
idea of utilizing a man like that to play bezique ! He will 
never come again.” But the Count’s unsocialibility seemed 
conquered for ever. He came again. 

One evening M. Moriaz was guilty of an indiscretion. As 
he was taking up a trick, it occurred to him to ask M. 
Larinski who had taught him the piano. 

“I always carry her portrait about with me,” was the reply. 

And drawing from his pocket a locket, he handed it to 
M. Moriaz, who, after looking at it, passed it on to his 
daughter. The locket contained the likeness of a fair- 
haired, blue-eyed woman, with a small well-chiselled mouth, 
and a delicate plaintive expression, both sweet and sad ; it 
was the face of an angel, but of an angel that had lived and 
suffered. 

What a charming face!” exclaimed Mademoiselle Moriaz. 

It certainly was charming. Some one has aserted that 
a Polish woman is a combination of punch and holy water. 
Yet you may neither care for punch nor holy water, and 
still be very fond of a Polish woman. She is one of the best 
chapters in the book of creation. 

‘‘ The portrait is that of my mother,” said Count Larinski. 

“ Are you so fortunate as still to possess her ? ” asked 
Antoinette. 

She was a sensitive plant,” he replied; ^^and sensitive 
people do not live long.” 

‘‘ So her portrait tells ; one can see that she has suffered, 
but that she has forgiven life its ills.” 

For the first time, the count laid aside the reserve he 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


H 

had maintained in his relations with Mademoiselle Antoinette 
Moriaz. “ I cannot tell you,” he exclaimed, “ how happy 
your praise of my mother makes me.” 

Othello was accused of having employed secret philtres 
and charms to gain Desdemona’s affections. Brabantio 
had only himself to blame; he liked Othello and often 
invited him to his house, not making him play at b6zique, 
but questioning him about his past life. The Moor told bis , 
story, his sufferings and his adventures, and Desdemona 
wept. The fathers put the questions, the heroes or adven- 
turers tell the tale, and the daughters weep. This story j 
is as old as the hills. Abel Larinski had left the card- ' 
table ; he had seated himself in an easy-chair, opposite : 
Mademoiselle Moriaz. He was questioned, and he answered, i 
There had been nothing easy or pleasant in his lot. He ^ 
was still very young when his father. Count Witold Larinski, ; 
implicated in a plot, was forced to fly from Warsaw. His > 
estates had been confiscated ; fortunately, he had some money j 
invested in other countries, and was not left destitute. He i 
was an enterprising man ; he emigrated to America with his J 
wife and son, and dreamed of making a name and fortune by j 
cutting through the isthmus of Panama. He went to New | 
Grenada and made surveys and plans, so many, indeed, that I 
he died of yellow fever without having pierced through his 
isthmus, but having got through all his property, and leaving ■ 
his widow in the most cruel destitution. Countess Larinski ; 
said to her son: “We have nothing left to live on, but is it so ? 
necessary to live This she said with an angelic smile on ' 
her lips. i 

Abel went to California. There he followed the humblest ■ 
callings ; what did he care whether he were a porter or ; 
street-sweeper, provided his mother did not die of hunger? 
He sent her what little money he earned and lived in priva- 
tion, making her believe that he had every comfort. Fortune 


SAMUEL BjROfiL AND UADTNEli. 


45 


looked on him more kindly and his circumstances improved. 
The Countess came to join him at San Francisco; but angels 
cannot live among gold-diggers, nor breathe with impunity 
the pestilential air of the country of ‘‘placers they languish, 
spread their wings, and fly away. A few weeks after the 
loss of his mother, in 1863, Count Abel learned through a 
newspaper which came into his hands, that Poland had just 
risen again. He was one and twenty. He thought he heard 
a voice calling him, and another speaking from heaven and 
saying : “ She calls thee, go, it is thy duty.’^ So he went, 
and within two months he was crossing the frontier of 
Galicia on his way to join Langiewicz’s band. 

Othello spoke to Desdemonaof caverns, deserts, rocks whose 
summits reached to heaven, of anthropophagi, of cannibals 
and men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders. 
Count Abel related to Mademoiselle Moriaz all the fortunes 
and vicissitudes of partizan warfare, the risks, useless exploits, 
obscure glories and bloody contests which are never decisive, 
defeats survived by hope, hunger, thirst, cold, snow stained 
with blood, and long imprisonments in forests surrounded by 
the enemy; then the disasters, discouragements, an^ the 
fading away of the last hope, punishments, gibbets, with 
nothing left but a dumb feverish resignation, and the vast 
solitude with which silence surrounds calamity. After the 
dispersion of the band whose fates he had followed/he had 
managed to pass into Koumania. 

This exact and precise narration bore the stamp of truth. 
He unfolded it in a simple and modest manner, not attempting 
to glorify himself, but losing himself in his subject, and per- 
suasive because he made no effort to be so. His eyes some- 
times flashed, his voice faltered and he made sudden pauses ; 
he paused for a word, was indignant with himself for not 
finding it, but found it at last, and this effort added to the 
energy of his abrupt and broken eloquence. 


46 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


He ended by saying : ‘‘ When a man is young, he feels 
‘himself born to roll ; the day comes when he wants to sit 
down. T have sat down now, on a rather hard seat ; when I 
am tempted to complain, I think of my mother and hold my 
peaced^ 

‘‘What did you do in Roumania asked M. Moriaz, who 
liked stories to be in detail from end to end. 

“ Oh,’’ said he, “I must beg you to excuse me from giving 
you a history of the worst spent years of my life. I am my 
father’s son. He dreamed of piercing an isthmus, I wanted 
to invent a gun. I spent four years in making it, and the 
first time it was used it burst.” 

Hereupon he sketched with some humour, and not without 
quizzing himself, the story of the sad fate of his invention, his 
hopes, his golden dreams, mortifications and failure. 

“ One good thing,” pursued he, “ has happened, which no 
inventor ever experienced before, I am completely disgusted 
with my chimera ; I defy it to captivate me again. I intend 
to punish myself for my extravagance. As soon as my 
course of baths is finished, I shall go to Paris and do pen- 
ance.” 

“ What penance 1 ” asked M. Moriaz again. “ Paris is not 
a hermitage.” 

He replied with perfect simplicity, “ Nor have I any in- 
tention of leading a hermit’s life there. I shall give lessons 
in music and languages.” 

“ Dear me,” exclaimed M. Moriaz. “ Do you see no other 
career open to you, my dear count 'I ” 

“ I am a count no longer,” replied he with a manly smile. 
“ Call me plain M. Larinski. Counts do not give lessons at 
so much per hour.” 

A dark fire shot from his eyes, and he cried passionately, 
“I shall give lessons till I again hear the voice which spoke 
to me in Califoi'uia. It will find me always ready ; I shall 


Samuel lrohl and eartner. 


47 


answer, ‘ I am yours, do what you will with me/ Ah, that 
chimera I shall never renounce/^ 

He seemed suddenly to be awaking from a dream, passed 
his hand over his forehead, looked around, and said with 
some confusion : 

“ Good Heavens ! Here have I been talking to you about 
myself for two hours. It is the most stupid way possible 
of spending one's time, and I assure you that it shall never 
happen again.” 

With these words he rose, took up his hat and left the 
room. 

M. Moriaz paced the room for some moments, with his 
hands behind his back ; then he said : 

That poor fellow is eloquent in his way, he touched my 
feelings. The one point in his story that I dislike is that gun. 
A drunkard will go on drinking, and an inventor inventing 
No one ever stopped short at his first gun.” 

‘‘ Pray, sir,” cried Mademoiselle Moiseney, ‘‘ could not you 
ask the Minister for War to adopt the Larinski rifle ? ” 

‘‘ What, are you the ei^emy of your country ? ” said he. 
‘‘ Do you wish its ruin ? Have you sworn that we shall lose 
Champagne as well as Alsace ? ” 

‘‘I am quite sure,” replied she in high dudgeon, “that 
the Larinski rifle is a masterpiece, and I will answer for the 
inventor’s genius.” 

“ Well, then, Mademoiselle,” returned M. Moriaz with a 
low bow, “ if you will give your word of honour, of course 
you may be sure that the French Government will have no 
hesitation.” 

Mademoiselle Moriaz took no part in this conversation. 
With a slightly contracted brow, buried in her thoughts as 
in a solitude inaccessible to all mundane sounds, her cheek 
resting on the palm of her left hand, she held in the right a 
paper-knife, and kept moving the point backwards and for- 


48 


SAMUEL BROHL ANl) PARTRRR, 


wards in one of the grooves of the table on which she was 
leaning, while she contemplated, with half-closed eyes, a 
knot in the mahogany. In this knot she saw the Isthmus of 
Panama, San Francisco, and the angelic countenance of the 
Polish lady who had given birth to Count Abel Larinski ; 
she also saw in it fields of snow, ambuscades, retreats more 
glorious than victories, and, at the end of all, a bursting gun 
and a breaking heart. 

She rose and kissed her father without speaking. In 
crossing the sitting-room to go to her own chamber, she 
perceived that M. Larinski had forgotten a book which he 
had laid on the piano as he entered. It was an octavo 
edition of Shakspeare, which often accompanied him in his 
walks. She opened the volume ; he had written his name 
on the first page, and Antoinette recognised the hand-writ- 
ing of the note. 

While she was taking down her hair in her own room, her 
imagination was wandering through California and Poland. 
She compared M. Larinski to all ,the men she knew, and 
decided that he was like no one else. And this was the 
man who had written to Mademoiselle Moriaz : 

I came to this valley disgusted with life, sad and weary 
to death. I saw you pass, and some mysterious influence 
entered into me. I shall live.” 

She felt as if she had been seeking some one for years, 
and that she had done well to come to the Engadine, since 
she had found him there. 


I 


CHAPTER HI. 

Two, three, four days elapsed without Count Larinski’s 
reappearing at the Hotel Badrutt, where he was expected 
each evening. This prolonged absence affected Mademoiselle 
Moriaz keenly. She sought to explain it ; the search occu- 
pied part of her days and disturbed her slumbers. She 
had too much spirit not to keep her chagrin and anxiety to 
herself. No one about her could suspect that she asked her- 
self more than a hundred times during the twenty-four hours, 
Why does not he come again ? Will he never come again ? 
has he made a resolve ? Does his proud spirit regret having 
made such disclosures to us ? Is he angry with us for hav- 
ing wrested from him by our questions the secret of his 
life ? Or does he possibly suspect me of having discovered 
the handwriting of the anonymous letter to be his ? 
Will he leave the Engadine without taking leave of us ? 
Perhaps he has left already, and we shall never see him 
again.” 

At this thought. Mademoiselle Moriaz felt a sinking at 
the heart that she had never before known. Her day had 
come, her heart was no longer free ; the bird had suffered 
itself to be taken captive. 

Mademoiselle Moiseney said to her one night : “ It seems 
to me settled that we shall never see Count Larinski again.” 

She replied in an almost indifferent tone ; “No doubt 
he has found more entertaining society at Cellerina or 
elsewhere.” 


D 


50 


SAMUEL BilOHL AND PARTNER. 


“You mean/’ returned Mademoiselle Moiseney,” “that 
M. Moriaz and b^zique have driven him away. Heaven 
preserve me from saying anything against your father ! 
He has every virtue under the sun, excepting a delicacy of 
feeling which is not to be learned by handling acids. To 
compel a Count Larinski to play bezique ! There are some 
things which your father does not, and never will under- 
stand.” 

M. Moriaz had entered the room during this speech : “ Be 
so good as to explain what it is that I do not understand,” 
said he to Mademoiselle Moiseney. 

She replied with some embarrassment : “You do not un- 
derstand, sir, how much we enjoyed certain visits, and how 
we miss them.” 

“ Don’t you think that I miss them too? For the last 
four days I have been deprived of my game. What can 
we do ? Poles are capricious, and it does not do to trust 
them.” 

“ It may be simply that M. Larinski has been ill,” broke 
in Antoinette with perfect calmness. “I think, papa, we 
ought to inquire.” 

The following day M. Moriaz went over to Cellerina. 
He brought back word that M. Larinski was making a tour 
among the mountains, that he had started with the inten- 
tion of climbing to the summit of the Piz-Morteratsch and 
attempting the still more difficult ascent of the Piz-Eoseg. 
Mademoiselle Moriaz found it hard to decide whether this 
news were good or bad ; everything depends on the view 
that we take of things, and her view varied from hour t© 
hour. 

M. Moriaz had become more cautious since his misadven- 
ture. Experience had taught him that there are treacherous 
rocks which may be ascended with tolerable ease, but are 
impossible to descend ; there is a risk of ending your days 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


51 


on them, if no Pole chanced to be at hand. Some truths are 
irrevocably impressed on the mind, and M. Moriaz no longer 
ventured amongst the heights unless accompanied by a guide, 
who had received orders from Antoinette never to leave him 
and not to allow him to run any risk. One day he was later 
than usual in returning, and his daughter reproached him 
rather vehemently wnth the constant anxiety he caused her. 
“ These glaciers and precipices give me the night-mare,” she 
said. 

“ Whom have you to blame, my dear 1 ” he replied. “ I 
declare that the ascent I have just made was neither more 
perilous nor difficult than that of Montmartre or the hill of 
Sannois. As to the glaciers, I have made a firm resolve 
never to go upon them ; I have passed the age for exploits. 
My guide has just been thrilling me by an account of the 
risks he ran in 1864 on the Morteratsch, where he had 
accompanied Professor Tyndall and another English tourist. 
They were all carried away by an avalanche, and tied to- 
gether by one rope, were slipping down with the snow : a 
fall of twelve hundred feet ! They would have been lost if 
the presence of mind of one of the guides had not succeeded 
in checking them within two feet of a frightful crevasse 
which was ready to engulf them. Let those who like ascend 
the Morteratsch ! I am a father, and I am not tired of life. 
I hope our friend Larinski may come down safe and sound. 
If he has met with an avalanche on his way, he will invent 
no more rifles.” 

Antoinette was no longer able to control her nerves ; 
throughout the evening, she was so pre-occupied that M. 
Moriaz could not help noticing it, but he was far from sus 
pecting the cause. Pie was deeply versed in qualitative and 
quantitative analysis, but was less slwlled in the analysis 
of his daughter’s heart. “ How pale you are ! ” he said 
to her, “Do you feel unwell? You must have, taken a 


52 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


chill. Do make yourself useful, Mademoiselle Moiseney, 
and prepare her some gruel; you know I don’t allow her 
to be ill.’^ 

It was not Mademoiselle Moiseney’s gruel which restored 
Mademoiselle Moriaz’s roses. The following morning, as An- 
toinette was giving her pupil a drawing lesson. Count Abel 
was announced. She started, the colour mantled in her 
cheek, and she was unable to conceal her agitation from the 
keen eye of her audacious charmer. It was easy to see that 
he had climbed where even eagles rarely ascend. He was 
weather-beaten by the ice and snow. He had successfully 
accomplished the double ascent, and had to give an account 
of it. In descending the Morteratsch, he had been overtaken 
by a storm which had nearly prevented his ever seeing the 
plain or Mademoiselle Moriaz again. His safety, he said, 
was owing to the skill and courage of his guide, whom he 
could not sufficiently praise. 

While he was giving this modest report of his exploit, 
Antoinette had dismissed her pupil. He seemed embarrassed 
by the tete-4-tete, which was, however, of his own seeking. 
He rose to go, sayirig : 

‘‘ I am sorry not to have seen M. Moriaz. I came to bid 
him goodbye, I am going this evening.” 

She summoned up courage and replied : “ It is well you 
came, you had left this volume of Shakspeare behind you.” 
And then, drawing from her pocket-book a paper : ‘‘ I have 
something else to return you. I have had the mortification 
of discovering that it was you who wrote this letter.” 

With these words she handed to him the anonymous note. 
His eyes fell, and it was his turn to colour. 

“ What proves me to be the author of this offence 1 ” he 
asked. 

‘‘ Any ill deed may be denied, but do not deny it.” 

After a moment’s silence, he resumed : ‘‘ I shall not deny 


SAMUEL BftOHL AND PABTNEE. 


53 


it, for I cannot tell a lie. I am the culprit. I confess it 
with sorrow, since my audacity has offended you.” 

“I never cared for madrigals, either in prose or verse, 
signed or anonymous,” she returned rather curtly. 

“ And you took this letter for a madrigal '1 ” exclaimed he. 
Then after reading it through, he tore it into pieces and 
threw them into the fire, adding with a smile : It is 
certainly devoid of common sense ; the man who wrote it 
was mad, and I have nothing to say in his defence.” 

She folded her hands on her breast, and fixing on him 
her brown eyes, as proud as they were sweet, said; “What 
then?” 

“ I came to Chur,” he replied, “ I entered a church, my 
eyes fell on a stranger, I forgot myself in gazing at her. In 
the evening I saw her again, walking in a garden where 
music was playing, and the sound of the harps and violins 
seemed to me delightful. I said to myself, ‘What is the 
heart of man ? This woman has passed close to me without 
seeing me, she does not know and will never know of my 
existence, nor do I know her name. More, I never mean 
to know it ; but I do know that she exists, and it makes me 
glad, contented, and all but happy. She will always be a 
stranger to me, still she cannot hinder me from remembering 
her, and I shall think sometimes of the unknown lady of 
Chur.’ ” 

“Very good,” she observed, “but that does not explain 
your note.” 

“We are coming to that,” he went on to say. “I was 
sitting in a coppice by the roadside. I was suffering from 
gloom and deep dejection^ there are moments when life 
weighs me down like a heavy burden. I was thinking of 
my vanished hopes, of my perished chimeras, and the 
sorrows of my youth and my future. You passed along the 
^ad, and I said to myself that life was sweet, since it 


54 


SAMUEL BROHL and PARtNiJtl. 


afforded us the chance of such meetings, and of again seeing 
what had given us pleasure.” 

“ And the note?” she said again with a dreamy air. 

He continued : ‘‘ I shall never learn wisdom ; wisdom lies 
in doing nothing but what is useful, and I was born with a 
taste for the useless. The next day I saw you climbing a 
slope to gather flowers ; the slope was steep, and you could 
not reach them. I went and gathered them for you, and on 
sending the bouquet was unable to resist the temptation of 
adding a word. ‘ Before doing penance,’ said I to myself, 
‘let me commit one folly more, it shall be the last.’ One 
always flatters oneself that it will be the last. The wretched 
note had hardly left my hands when I regretted it ; I would 
have given a great deal to recover it, I felt its impropriety : 
I have just pronounced sentence on it by tearing it up. My 
sole excuse was my firm resolve never to come near you or 
make myself known. Chance has willed otherwise, I was 
introduced to you, you know by whom and how — it ended 
in my coming here every evening ; but I rebelled against my 
own weakness, I forced myself away for some days in order 
to break myself of a dangerous habit, and, thank heaven, 
I have snapped my chain.” 

She tapped her foot sharply on the inlaid floor, and said 
with the air of a queen bringing one of her subjects back to 
his duty : “ Am I to believe you ? ” 

He had spoken in a half-serious, half-jesting tone, 
tinged by the playful melancholy characteristic of him. 
His countenance changed, his eye sparkled, and he cried 
abruptly : “ I have regained strength and resolution on the 
top of the Morteratsch, and am only come here now to 
bid you farewell, and assure you that you shall never see me 
again.” 

“ The affair is altogether strange,” replied she musingly ; 
“ but I will forgive you only on the condition th&t yon 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


55 


do not carry out your threat. You have determined to 
bo prudent, and prudent people avoid all extremes. You 
must remember that you have friends in Paris. My father 
has many friends there; if we can assist you in any 
way 

He did not allow her to finish, but rejoined proudly: 
“ Many thanks, but I have sworn to put myself under obli- 
gations to no one.’' 

“Well then,” she resumed, “you will at least give us 
the pleasure of seeing you. In another month we shall be 
at Corrneilles.” 

He shook his head to signify his refusal. She looked at 
him steadily and said : “ It is my wish.” 

This look and speech thrilled Count Abel’s brain with 
such joy and hope that he was on the point of betraying 
himself. He felt ready to fall down at Mademoiselle 
Moriaz’s knees, which would certainly have spoiled all ; but 
he controlled his emotion, bowed gravely and lowered his 
eyes. She soon resumed her ordinary voice and look to 
interrogate him about his route. He replied that he thought 
of travelling by Solothurn, and spending a day there to visit 
the house in the Gurzelengasse, in which the greatest of 
Poles, Kosciusko, had died. He had long thought of making 
this pilgrimage. “Another useless action,” added he. 
“When shall I learn to correct myself?” 

“ Don’t correct yourself too much,” said she, smiling, and 
on this he withdrew. 

M. Moriaz returned to the hotel towards no'on ; his guide 
was engaged elsewhere, so he had only taken a short walk. 
After lunch, his daughter suggested that they should go 
down to tlie edge of the lake together. They walked all 
round it, which is no great undertaking ; this pretty sheet 
of water, which has been unjustly compared to a shaving 

di§b, k hardly mor^ tbap three quarters of a mile in length* 


56 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


When the father and daughter had reached the entrance of 
the wood which pedestrians traverse on their way to 
Pontresina, they sat down on the grass at the foot of a larch. 
For some time both were silent. 

Antoinette was looking at the cows feeding, and passing 
the tip of her parasol over the shining glabrous leaves of a 
yellow gentian. M. Moriaz was not troubling himself about 
either cows or gentian, he was thinking of M. Camille Langis. 
He was reproaching himself on his account; he had not 
written, having nothing satisfactory to report. He fancied 
he saw the poor fellow vainly waiting at the Hotel Steinbock. 
To spend a fortnight at Chur is a penance which the most 
robust constitution finds hard to stand, and to look every 
morning and evening for a letter that never comes is an 
additional penance. M. Moriaz resolved to re-open hosti- 
lities, and to begin a fresh assault on the impregnable for- 
tress. He was trying to find an exordium, and an opening 
phrase. Just as he had found it, Antoinette suddenly said 
in a low, troubled, but distinct voice : ‘‘I have a question to 
ask. What should you think if I were some day to marry 
M. Abel Larinski ? ” 

M. Moria.z sprang up, and his stick, falling from his 
hand, rolled down the slope. He looked at his daughter and 
exclaimed : ‘‘ Please to repeat what you have just said. I 
am afraid I misunderstood you.” 

She replied in a firm voice : “I want to know what 
you would think if I were some day or other to marry 
Count Larinski.” 

He was confounded, thunderstruck. He had never fore- 
seen that such an accident might arise, nor suspected that 
anything of the kind could take place between M. Larinski 
and his daughter. Of all the ideas unlikely to occur to 
him, this appeared the least adnaissible, least probable, and 
inost absurd, 


SAMUEL BBOHL AND PAETNBR. 


67 


After a long silence, he said to Antoinette : You are 
trying to frighten me, you are not in earnest/' 

“ Do you dislike M. Larinski ? '' she asked. 

“ No, certpJnly, I don’t dislike him. He is well bred, he 
talks well, and I grant that he came the other day in the 
most graceful manner to take me off a rock, where, but for 
him, I should be still. I am grateful to him, but there is a 
great step between that gratitude and giving him my 
daughter. If he asks for a Humane Society’s medal, it 
is at his service.” 

“ Let us talk seriously,” said she. “ What are your ob- 
jections ? ” 

“ First of all, M. Larinski is a foreigner, and I am sus- 
picious of foreigners. Then I know very little of him and 
require full references. Then, the state of his affairs, I con- 
fess ” 

“ Ah, there we have it,” she broke in. ‘‘ Poverty is his 
crime, and he did not disguise it. How differently we 
think ! I have a fortune, and the only advantage I see in it 
is that it may enable me to marry a man whom I esteem in 
spite of his poverty.” 

“ Possibly on account of it,” interrupted M. Moriaz in his 
turn. “ Come, pray allow my poor common sense to explain 
its anxiety. M. Larinski told us his life. Well, frankly 
now, does it not seem to you rather that of — what shall I 
say — of an adventurer ? You object to the word, I retract 
it at once ; but confess that this Pole belongs to the family 
of — rolling stones.” 

“ Or heroes,” she retorted. 

‘^Well, nomadic heroes. I don't wish heroes any harm, 
though I have not yet been able to discover their precise 
utility. At any rate, it does not seem to me that they are 
the men best adapted to epsure a wife’s happiness, and I 
wish my daughter to be happy.” 


58 


SAMUfiL BilOHL AND PARTNER. 


Do not you share my conviction that M. Larinski^s mind 
is superior, and his heart as sterling as gold ” 

As gold ? I should like to believe it, and indeed have no 
reason for doubting it ; but many clever folks are taken in 
by false jewellery. If you knew more of chemistry, my dear, 
you would understand how easy it is to manufacture sham 
ornaments. Formerly, after cleaning the article to be gilt, 
an amalgam of gold was applied. Now it is usual to plunge 
the copper or brass ornament into a solution of perchloride of 
gold and bicarbonate of potassium; in less than a minute, 
the trick is done. This is called gilding by the dipping pro- 
cess. Galvanism is also used. But let us admit that M. 
Larinski’s heart is true gold. In the purest gold there is 
always some alloy, and recourse must be had to the cupel. 
Do you know what this cupel is ? A little capsule with porous 
walls, which has the property of absorbing oxides in fusion, and 
of retaining the fused metals. What is the proportion of lead 
and gold in M. Larinski’s heart ? Neither you nor I know.” 

She was no longer listening ; her chin was resting on her 
hand, and her eye wandering over the glade. He touched 
her arm lightly to rouse her, and said : ‘Hs it all over ? Do 
you love him ? ” 

“Why will you oblige me to confess it?” she answered, 
colouring. 

“ And has he made a declaration ? Has he presumed — ” 

“Not at all. How little you know him ! If you were to 
offer me to him, his pride would refuse, and I should have to 
go on my knees to learn the reason of his refusal.” 

“ Let us say at once that he is a marvellous, unique pro- 
duction, and that there is not such another Pole in existence, 
the mould has been broken. But you are sure he is in love 
with you ? ” 

She replied by a movement of her head. “ I must con- 
fess,” he resumed, “ that passion, ‘ lo, grande passion, as it 


SAMUEL B^OHL AND PABTNEB. 


69 


is called, is to me a sealed letter, a mystery of mysteries ; I 
have no idea of what it is. But that did not prevent me 
from marrying and making a choice which broiight^me much 
happiness. Your character is different, and I am inclined to 
believe that you are yielding to some irresistible fascination. 
Yet I think it must be possible to resist, you have a firm 
will and some strength of character ” 

She interrupted him by murmuring : “ Either this man or 
none.’' 

“ Oh, if that is it,” he continued, “ you are of age and 
mistress of your own actions, I can do nothing but submit. 
But I cling to the idea that it would cost you something to 
make a marriage of which I disapproved.” 

“ Can you doubt it ? I am ready to remain unmarried.” 

“A bad resolve, worse than the other. Let us come to 
terms. The absolute has no place except in science. It is 
absolutely true that borax is a salt formed by a combination 
of boracic acid and soda. Beyond that, we must keep to 
deductions. Does this fortunate man suspect the sentiments 
he inspires ? ” 

“ I repeat that you do not know him. Do you take him 
for a coxcomb ? When he came this morning to announce 
his departure, it was with a fixed intention of bidding us 
an eternal farewell and never seeing me again.” 

An excellent idea of his ! ” exclaimed M. Moriaz with a 
sigh. “ Unluckily you pointed out that Cormeilles was only 
two hours from Paris.” 

‘‘ I had some diffculty in convincing him of it.” 

‘‘Well, after all, you are not yet committed, nothing is fixed. 
You know, my dear, that my doctor advised me to guard against 
sudden changes, and not to pass at once from the bracing air of 
the Engadine to the soft air of the plain. When we leave 
St. Moritz, we will go two thousand feet lower and 
spend three weeks at Churwalden, so when we leave here, it 


60 


SAMUEL BROHL AND* PARTNER. 


will be a month before we reach Paris. You can spend the 
time in letting your imagination cool down. It is easy to let 
ideas grow on one in these out-of-the-way places, without 
taking the monotony of hotel life into account. The very 
day after we came, you took a dislike to the paper in our 
little sitting-room, a ridiculous paper, I own. In each 
square a thrush pecking at a currant ; two hundred thi’ushes 
and two hundred currants were enough to weary any one to 
death. Suddenly there came a Pole — ” 

“ It was not the thrush’s fault,” returned she, smiling. 
“ A month hence, I shall say as I do now ; either this man 
or none.” 

‘‘Don’t repeat your formula, I entreat. Resolutions are the 
prison of the will and refuse to set it free. Promise me that 
you will reflect ; reflection is an excellent thing. One thing 
more ; will you promise beforehand what I am going to askr 

“ I promise.” 

“You have a godmother — ” 

“ Ah, here it comes,” she said. 

“You cannot deny that Madame de Lorcy is a woman of the 
world, full of good sense and experience, who takes a great 
interest in your happiness — ” 

“ And who has decided from time immemorial that I can 
only be made happy by marrying her nephew, M. Camille 
Langis.” 

“ Well, I admit her partiality. That is no reason why we 
should not send her our Pole. She will examine him and 
tell us what she thinks, which will furnish an additional 
element for our discussion.” 

“ Oh, I can hear her from here. This sensible, experienced 
woman is incapable of recognising any merit in a man im- 
pertinent enough to make Mademoiselle de Moriaz fall in love 
with him without having an income of at least fifty thousand 
francs to offer her.” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


61 


“What does that matter? We will let her give her 
opinion, we are not consulting an oracle ; but she can detect 
sham jewellery. If she were to discover — ’’ 

“ I should ask for proofs,” Antoinette put in promptly. 

“ And supposing she furnished them ? ” 

She was silent for a minute, and then said : “Well, do as 
you like.” 

With these words, the conversation ceased; they rose and 
walked on to St. Moritz, where M. Moriaz had no sooner 
arrived than he took a carriage and drove off to Cellerina, 
armed with a parcel entrusted to him by Antoinette. He 
found M. Larinski engaged in strapping up his luggage, and 
awaiting the mail Avhich goes from Samaden to Chur by the 
Julier Pass. 

M. Moriaz expressed his regret at having been absent 
during his call, and asked if he would consent to undertake 
a commission for his daughter, who wished to send a sketch 
of St. Moritz to her godmother, Madame de Lorcy. 

“With great pleasure,” replied Count Abel coldly, and he 
promised, on reaching Paris, to send the parcel to Maisons- 
Laffitte. 

“ Do more,” rejoined M. Moriaz, “ extend your kindness 
so far as to take it yourself. Madame de Lorcy is a 
pleasant woi^n, who will be charmed to make your acquain- 
tance, and to hear of us through you.” 

The Count bowed with an air of resignation, but with so 
little eagerness that M. Moriaz asked himself if his daughter 
had not been dreaming, if M. Larinski had fallen as much in 
love with her as she fancied. He had not read the anony- 
mous letter, which Antoinette had :aot cared to show him. 

He was half way back to St. Moritz, when he came upon 
a pedestrian, who, lost in thought, failed to look up and re- 
cognise him. M. Moriaz ordered liis driver to stop, jumped 
(Jown, came up to the traveller, seizec} him by both shoqlderS| 


G2 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


and said : — ‘‘ You here ! you again ! One can^t take a step 
in the Orisons without coming upon you. I shall ask as I 
did at Chur, where have you sprung from ? ” 

‘‘And did you think I should stay there for ever ? ” re- 
plied M. Camille Langis with an injured air. “You have 
not kept your word, you forgot me and never wrote. I was 
tired of waiting, and here I am.” 

“ And where are you going 

“ To the Hotel Badrutt, to plead my own cause, since my 
advocate has failed me.” 

“ Ah, you come most opportunely, you have a genius 
for choosing your time. Go, make haste, plead, groan, weep, 
pray, you will be well received, and will have a fine report 
to make to me.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” replied Camille, “ what has 
happened? Have you spoken and been silenced?” 

“ No indeed ; I was listened to, without enthusiasm, 
certainly, but with attention, with deference, when all at 
once — what can we do, my poor friend ? This is a sad world, 
full of accidents and Poles — ” 

M. Langis looked at him with an air of astonishment as 
though asking for some explanation. M. Moriaz continued : 
“ Ho yourself justice. Come, you are the best fellow in 
the world, I own ; you are an excellent man and a first-rate 
engineer. Unluckily there is no mystery of blood and tears 
in your existence, it is perfectly simple, plain, and straight- 
forward and as clear as crystal ; in short, you are not an un- 
known. Have you a fair, delicate, romantic mother, and do 
you always wear her portrait next your heart ? Have you 
green eyes with unfathomable depths ? Have you any ad- 
ventures to narrate? Have you seen California? Have you 
swept the streets of San Francisco? Have you exchanged 
balls with the Cossacks ? Have you been nearly killed in 
three fights mi ten skirmishes ? Yon never even thought 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


63 


of dying once. Have you tried every trade without succeed- 
ing in any ? Have you invented a gun that bursts ? And, 
above all, are you as poor as Job! — What ! you do not enjoy 
any one of these inestimable advantages and yet you have 
the assurance to ask me for my daughter’s hand V 

M. Moriaz ended this speech just as the Samaden mail 
passed. Count Abel, perched on the top of the coach, 
bowed and waved his hand. 

“ Take a good look at that man,” said M. Moriaz to 
Camille, that is the enemy.” And instead of giving him 
the information he wanted, he said to the young man : — 

Forget her and go, it is the best thing you can do.” 

“ You don’t know me yet,” replied Camille : I am one of 
those obstinate fellows who go firing on as long as they have 
a cartridge left. I shall go with you. Oh ! don’t be afraid. 
I can act a part, I can deceive Antoinette, and make her be- 
lieve that I have given up all my pretensions. I will only 
pay her a friendly visit : but I pine for a sight of her, and 
See her T must.” 

Next morning the enemy alighted at Chur, and went on 
to Berne. I do not know what prevented him from making 
the detour by Solothurn, according to the intention he had 
announced of paying a tribute of homage to the great 
memory of Kosciusko, but he went direct from Berne to 
Lausanne, and as soon as he had reached Lausanne, directed 
his course at once to the casino of Saxon. 

As he took his seat at the large green-covered table, his 
heart beat violently. His ears tingled ; his head burned, 
and cold drops stood on his forehead. He cast wild glances 
right and left ; he fancied he saw in the croupier’s eyes his 
past, his future, and Mademoiselle Moriaz as large as life. 
Fortune compensated him for her imkindness at Milan. 
After a night full of vicissitudes and torture, when day 
dawned. Count Abel had nearly twenty thousand francs in 


64 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


his pocket. It was sufficient to pay the debts he was anxious 
to settle, and to allow him to await without too much im- 
patience the moment for carrying out his plans. 

He left the casino with a flushed, radiant face ; his joy dis- 
posed him to pity, and if Herr Guldenthal himself had run 
across him, he would have been ready to embrace him. 


CHAPTER lY. 

Although Count Abel had never mentioned the fact to 
Mademoiselle Moriaz while relating his campaigns and wan- 
derings, he was already well acquainted with Paris, having 
made several long stays there. This may, perhaps, seem im- 
probable. He had sailed to America when very young, and 
only crossed the ocean again to go and fight in Poland, and 
he had since been living in Roumania and Vienna. When 
had he found time to visit France ? Certainly, however, the 
boulevards were no unknown country to him, and he knew 
the roads leading to the principal places of amusement ; but 
he was not bent on amusement. Though his purse was well 
filled, he planned to lead an austere, retired life. He found 
lodgings to suit him in an hdtel garni in the Rue Mont 
Thabor. These lodgings, on the fifth floor, were agreeable 
but modest ; they consisted of two rooms, looking on to the 
chestnuts of the Tuileries gardens. The comierge was a 
good-natured woman, with whom Count Abel managed to 
ingratiate himself the very first day. He was of opinion that 
in the affairs of this world it is well to have your conscience 
and your concierge on your side. 

After installing himself in his attic, his first care was to 
write to Herr Moses Guldenthal. He sent him word that he 


SAMUEL BBOfiL AND PABTNBR. 


65 


was able to repay him both principal and interest, and com- 
missioned him to discharge some pressing debts which he had 
left in Vienna ; he begged him also to forward his bracelet, 
which he hoped to turn to advantage. He felt a great 
relief from the thought that he owed no one anything, and 
was in a clear, unfettered position. When people are proud, 
they like to be free, and when they are clever, they foresee 
every possible conjuncture. 

His second care was to go to the Passage de TOp^ra 
and purchase a sixty franc bouquet, w^hich he carried to 
No. 27 Rue MoufFetard ; he had one of those retentive 
memories which never forget anything. This bouquet, the 
finest that Mademoiselle Galet had ever received, made 
her stare. She did not know whom to thank, the modest 
donor having withdrawn from her effusions of gratitude 
without making himself known. She supposed that 
Mademoiselle Moriaz had sent it, and, having a talent for 
composition, wrote a letter of four pages to thank her. 

Count Abel had not forgotten that Mademoiselle Moriaz 
had given him a commission. Some days after his arrival, 
he determined to go to Maisons, but in a round-about w^ay ; 
he wanted to see Cormeilles and a villa in which he 
was particularly interested. He took the Argenteuil line, 
got out at Sannois, climbed the pretty hill which commands 
the finest views, and halted at the inn of the Moulin de 
Trouillet to breakfast. It was a delightful morning; it 
was the middle of August, and the approach of autumn, 
which embellishes everything, was already felt. 

The sky was flecked with little grey clouds ; a light 
silvery haze veiled the brow of the hills ; two glimpses were 
visible of the Seine, sparkling in the sun. Abel breakfasted 
in the open air ; as he was eating, he looked at the expanse 
of sky and the wide alluvial plain at his feet, covered with 
vegetables, vines and asparagus, mingled with a few fruit 

E 


66 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


trees. It is admirably framed by the wooded hills which 
enclose it. Count Larinski, in his present humour, was 
charmed v;ith this grand, yet smiling, landscape. He asked 
himself at intervals the value of an asparagus bed at the 
gates of Paris, and after making the calculation, turned his 
poetic eyes towards the heather and broom around him. He 
came to the conclusion that the hill of Sannois is finer than 
the Koseg, and this is an opinion that one may hold, without 
being in love with Mademoiselle Moriaz. 

After making a good breakfast, he started again, following 
the crest of the hill, and threading the woods. On ap- 
proaching Cormeilles, he saw in the distance, rising above 
an oak plantation, the white walls of a pretty villa. His 
heart beat quickly, and he said to himself, by a sort of 
divination : It must be there.” He made inqiiiries, and 

found he was not mistaken. Five minutes after, he was 
standing before an iron gate, through which a verdant lawn 
was to be seen. At the door of the porter’s lodge sat a 
woman knitting. 

Can you tell me where M. Moriaz lives asked Count 
Larinski. 

‘‘ This is the house, sir,” was her answer; “but M. Moriaz 
is away and will not be back for a month.” She added 
politely : “If you have come far, sir, you might be glad of 
a short rest on the terrace. There is a fine view from it.” 

This hospitable reception seemed to him to augur well ; 
sensible as he was, he believed in presentiments and prog- 
nostics. He entered without waiting to be asked twice. 
After skirting the lawn, he found himself facing two blocks 
of building, separated by a mass of verdure. On the right 
was a low wing of some antiquity, consecrated from time 
immemorial to M. Moriaz’s library, collections, and laboratory. 
On the left, a new two-storeyed house, partly brick and 
partly stone, built in good, sober taste, without ornament or 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


67 


pretension, and 'flanked by a turret over-grown with ivy and 
clematis, which served as a dove-cote. The house was 
no palace, but it spoke of well-being, comfort, and ease. 
On looking at it, it tempted a man to say, ‘‘ How pleasant it 
must be to live here.” This was the kind of remark made by 
Count Abel to himself ; he was ready to exclaim, Bless me t 
how comfortable I shall be here !” 

The situation, the terrace and garden, all pleased him 
greatly. The air seemed to him fresh and delicious, and the 
grassy slopes more verdansfc than any grass he had seen else- 
where, while the flowers in the carefully tended borders 
exhaled a special perfume. 

He noticed a window open on the ground-floor,, and went 
up to it. The room which he looked into, filled with 
exquisitely chosen knick-knacks, was Mademoiselle Moriaz^s 
boudoir. This little silk-draped sanctuary looked as pure 
and elegant as the goddess who made it her favourite abode ; 
it had a chaste and virginal appearance. Its windows were 
open to the fresh breeze and the perfume of the flowers ; but 
it looked as if nothing coarse or doubtful could penetrate it, 
as if it might not be entered by any malevolent or suspicious 
being with a secret stain to hide, by any of those travellers 
v/ho have tramped the high roads of life and brought away 
some of its mud on their shoes. 

Count Abel, strange to say, was smitten with timidity or 
embarrassment. He felt himself an intruder, turned away 
his eyes, and retired. This impression was soon dissipated. 
He recovered all his assurance and walked round the terrace 
twice, treading the gravel with a triumphant step, and 
making it feel the full weight of his foot. 

Then he sat down on a bench, in the nonchalant attitude 
of a man quite at home. Five or six pigeons were cooing 
on the edge of the roof ; he felt that they were talking about 
him and saying, Here he is, we were expecting him.” A 


68 


SAMUIBL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


beautiful Angora cat, with a sharp muzzle, silky hair as 
white as snow, and a bushy tail like a feather, emerged from 
one of the clumps of shrubs and came up to him. She ex- 
amined him for a moment with an inquisitive eye, rubbed 
herself against the seat, and then lay down coquettishly at 
the intruder’s feet. He caressed her, saying, “You are 
fair and graceful like your mistress, and, like an intelligent 
animal, you know that I have been with her. Shall I tell 
you her secret ? She is in love with Count Abel Lk,rinski.” 

With these words he rose and went out, after thanking 
the lodge-keeper, who would have been greatly astonished 
had he communicated to her the reflections in which he had 
just been indulging. 

He walked a few paces along the high road ; then, finding 
a road leading to Cormeilles on his right, he took it and 
soon turned aside into a path winding beneath the trees. 
He was loth to quit a place where everything spoke so 
vividly to his heart, and, above all, to his imagination. He 
sat down on the turf, in the middle of an oak coppice ; 
around him spread a flowery heath. Through an opening in 
the coppice, he could see Saint-Germain, its forest, and the 
glittering Seine, on which the two bridges of Maisons-Laffitte 
cast the shadow of their arches. Through another opening 
on the left he caught a glimpse of the stately bastions of 
Mont-Valerien, and on the horizon, Paris, the Arc de I’Etoile, 
the gilt dome of the Invalides, and the smoke of factories 
rising slowly into the air : sometimes hanging there straight 
and motionless, sometimes vanishing under the sway of the 
wind. 

It was a solitary, peaceful, retired spot. The only sound 
was the song of a lark, interrupted at intervals by the 
melancholy screech of a peacock. Abel Larinski felt a 
mysterious emotion seize him, a voluptuous languor flowed 
through his veins. He gazed on the smoke of Paris and 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


69 


saw floating in it an ethereal face, half concealed in a red 
hood. * This face smiled upon him, and the smile promised 
him all the delights of the land of Canaan. 

He turned away his eyes and half closed them, and a very 
different face appeared. It was that of a man whom he 
knew intimately, and to whom he was closely attached. He 
buried his face in his hands, and remained motionless for a 
time. In vain the lark warbled and the peacock shrieked. 
Abel Larinski heard them no longer. He was thinking of 
Samuel Brohl, and retracing in his mind the complete history 
of this Samuel, who had never had any secrets from him. 

This history was as sad as that of Abel Larinski, but 
much less brilliant and heroic. Samuel Brohl did not pride 
himself on being a patriot or a paladin ; he had had no noble 
woman with an angelic smile for his mother, and had never 
thought of fighting for anything or any one. 

He was not a Pole, though born in a Polish province of 
the Austrian Empire. His father was a Jew of German 
origin, as indicated by his name, which in German means a 
swamp, a bog, or some such place in which people sink, and 
he kept a tavern in a wretched little town near the eastern 
frontier of Galicia ; — town, tavern and host were alike 
wretched. Though he took much pains to sell his neigh- 
bours adulterated brandy, and to watch for every opportunity 
of lending them money at twenty per cent, it availed him 
little ; he was chicken-hearted, and they profited by his fears 
to make him disgorge. His creed consisted of three articles; 
he held that the arts of lying w^ell, stealing well, and receiv- 
ing a smack on the face without appearing to notice it, were 
the arts useful above all others in human life ; but of the 
three, the last was the only one he had a talent for practis- 
ing. His intentions were excellent, but his intelligence 
defective ; this arrant knave was but a peddling rascal, and 
could be duped like a simpleton. 


70 


SAMUEL BROHL AND TARTNER. 


Abel Larinski suffered his thoughts to transport him to 
the tavern in which Samuel Brohl had passed his early 
years, and which he knew as well as if he had lived there 
himself. He could fancy he saw the grimy room, smelling 
of garlic and tallow, with men sitting drinking round a long 
table, and others lying under it, the damp, reeking walls, and 
dirty, uneven floor. He remembered a wooden panel, against 
which, in the heat of a dispute, a bottle had been thrown ; 
it had left a large wine stain, which bore some resemblance 
to a face. He also remembered the tavern-keeper, a little 
man with a dirty red beard, and a mean expression of 
countenance, a combination of impudence and timidity. 
He could see him coming, going, turning, and suddenly 
stopping to raise the edge of his caftan and rub his cheek. 
What had happened ? An insolvent debtor had spit in his 
face ; he was wiping it with a smile. This smile seemed to 
Count Abel more terrible than the large stain which looked 
like a face. 

‘‘Children ought to be allowed to choose their fathers,’’ 
he thought. “ And yet this poor Samuel Brohl narrowly 
escaped living as happily and contentedly in the paternal 
mire as a fish in water. Habit and pra(?tice accustom people 
by degrees to filth ; there are even people who eat and 
digest it. What put it into Samuel Brohl’s head to read 
Shakespeare ? Poets are poisoners.” 

It was indeed a fact that Samuel had somewhere picked 
up a volume that had fallen from a traveller’s pocket. It 
was a German translation of the “Merchant of Venice.” 
He read it without understanding it ; he read it again and 
understood it at length. His ideas became terribly con- 
fused, and he felt as if he should go mad. By degrees, 
order was restored to the chaos, and light was slowly 
diffused. Samuel Brohl felt as if he had had cataract on 
liis eyes, and it had been removed, 


BAMUEL bROHL AND PARTNER. tl 

He saw things that he had never seen before, and felt joy 
mingled with dread. He learned the “Merchant of Venice” 
by heart. He shut himself up in a garret to exclaim with 
Shylock, “Hath not a Jew eyes'? Hath not a Jew hands, 
organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions'? If you prick 
us, do we not bleed'? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you 
poison us, do we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not 
revenge ? ” He repeated too with Lorenzo ; 

“ Look how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 

There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold^st 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 

Still quiring to the young- eyed cherubins ; 

Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.” 

Samuel rose sometimes in the night to look at the heavens, 
and fancied he heard the voices of the young-eyed cherubins. 
He dreamed of a world where Portias and Jessicas were to 
be found, of a world where the Jews were proud like Shylock, 
insolent like Shylock, vindictive like Shylock, and like Shy- 
lock, avenged themselves on their enemies by eating their 
hearts. The poor fool dreamed too that there was in him, 
in the head or breast of Samuel Brohl, an immortal soul, 
and that this soul made harmony, but he could not hear it 
because it was closed in by such thick, coarse mud. 

Then he felt a horror of Galicia, of its taverns and tavern- 
keepers, and of Samuel Brohl himself. An old schoolmaster, 
who had a harpsichord, taught him to play it, and thought 
he was doing him a kindness by lending him books. 

One day, Samuel Brohl modestly informed his father of 
the desire that Lad come over him to go to the grammar- 
school at Lemberg to learn all the various things he wanted 
to know. It was then that he received from the paternal 


72 


SAMUEL BROHL AMD PARTNER. 


hand a tremendous cuff which made him see all the stars in 
broad daylight. Old Jeremiah Brohl had taken a dislike to 
his son Samuel Brohl, because he thought he read something 
in his eyes which seemed to say that Samuel Brohl despised 
his faiher. 

‘‘ Poor fellow ! ” murmured Count Abel, picking up a stone 
and tossing it in his hand. “ Fortune owed him some com- 
pensation, she treated him harshly to the end. He jumped 
from the frying-pan into the fire, he changed his servitude 
for a worse bondage. When he came forth from the land of 
Egypt, he thought he saw the palms of the promised land. 
Alas ! he soon regretted Egypt and Pharaoh — Why was not 
the woman a Portia? Why was she neither young nor 
beautiful? Old fairy,” added he, ‘‘how you made him 
suffer!” 

Count Larinski felt as if this woman, the fairy who had 
made Samuel Brohl suffer so much, was there before him, 
and was looking down on him, as a fairy, old or young, may 
look down on a worm. On her lips there played an imperi- 
ous and contemptuous smile, the smile of a Czarina; such 
was the smile of Catherine II. when she was displeased with 
Potemkin and said : “I have made him what he is, and can 
unmake him.” “ It is she, it must be she,” thought Count 
Larinski. “ I cannot doubt it. I saw her again, five weeks 
ago, in the Vallee-du-Diable ; she terrified me.” 

This woman who had rescued Samuel Brohl from the land 
of Egypt, and shown him an immense amount of kindness, 
was a Russian princess. She had an estate in Podolia, and 
fate decreed tliat she should one day pass through the 
wretched town where young Samuel was growing up under 
the shadow of the tabernacle, and halt there. He was 
sixteen ; in spite of his filthy rags, she was struck by his 
face. She was a clever woman and had no prejudices. “ If 
he were washed,” thought she, “if he were scrubbed in 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


73 


plenty of fresh water and had new clothes, when he had kid 
aside his native impurity, seen the world, and mixed with 
decent people, he would really be a handsome boy.” She 
drew him into conversation and found him intelligent ; she 
liked intelligent people. She made him sing and ascertained 
that he had a voice ; she was devoted to music. 

She questioned him, he told her his troubles ; and, while 
he was speaking, she said to herself : ‘‘ No, I am not de- 
ceived, he has a future before him, and will be a splendid 
fellow in two or three years. Three years is not long ; 
gardeners who graft wild stocks have often to wait longer.” 

As soon as he had finished his story, she told him that 
she was in want of a secretary, that she had had several, but 
soon tired of them because they had not the qualities she 
required ; she asked him whether he felt that he could fill 
the post. He only replied by pointing to his father, who 
was smoking his pipe on his doorstep. Another minute’ and 
she and Jeremiah Brohl were closeted together. 

She offered at once to buy his son, and his hands sank to 
his side with astonishment, and then he felt flattered and 
delighted. First he declared that his son was not for sale, 
and then insinuated that if ever he sold him, it would be at 
a high price ; he talked of him as a rare commodity, a choice 
and valuable article. He set a ridiculous price on him ; she 
protested, he maintained that he could make no reduction, 
he had his tariff and never lowered his prices. There was a 
long discussion, and she was about to break off the negotia- 
tion, when he reduced his demands, and they at length 
came to an agreement. She sent for Samuel and said to 
him : “ You are mine, my lad, I have paid down the money 
for you. You ratify the bargain, don’t you 1 ” 

He was stupified by learning that he had a commercial 
value, he had never thought of such a thing. He longed to 
know how much he was worth, but the princess kept her 


74 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


own counsel, wishing him to believe that he had cost her 
a fortune. Upon reflection, he made his conditions ; he 
wanted to be his own master for three years, that he 
might study and satisfy his craving for knowledge on many 
subjects. 

She readily consented, it suited her purpose; the fruit 
would take quite three years to ripen and become worthy to 
be served at a princely table. She gave him directions and 
counsels, all of which bore the stamp of a superior mind ; 
she understood the world, politics, and physiology, in short, 
everything that can be learnt, and everything that ought 
not to be learnt. And so Samuel Brohl went with a well 
stocked purse to the University of Prague, w^hich he soon 
quitted for Heidelberg, going thence to Bonn, Berlin, and 
Paris. He was a restless spirit, not knowing exactly what 
he wanted ; but wherever he went, he cultivated quavers, 
sharps, and flats ; it was part of the contract. 

The princess herself was a great traveller ; two or three 
times a year she came to see Samuel Brohl. She questioned 
and examined him, feeling him, as people feel a peach to 
ascertain how soon it will be ripe. Samuel was very happy; 
he was free, he enjoyed life and did as he liked. There was 
but one flaw in his happiness ; when he looked at himself in 
the glass, he sometimes said : ‘‘ This is the face of a man who 
has sold himself, and the woman who has bought him is 
neither young nor handsome.” 

He repeatedly formed the project of learning some trade 
that might enable him to repay his debt and put an end to 
the bargain. But he never carried it out ; he was both very 
idle and very ambitious. He wanted to find a royal road, he 
had a horror of beginnings and apprenticeships. His early 
education liad been so much neglected that he would have 
had to work hard to make up for lost time. 

Some one has said : “I mistrust people who have not 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 75 

begun by drawing noses.” Samuel had never drawn noses, 
and this was evident when he painted his frescoes. And 
then, though his intelligence was keen and he had a marvel- 
lous faculty for entering into the thoughts of others, his mind 
was limited, he had neither original ideas nor strength of 
character. He possessed a collection of semi-talents ; even 
in music, he was unable to invent, and when he attempted 
to compose, his inspirations were but reminiscences. 

He did himself justice ; he felt that it was in vain to strive, 
his semi-talents would never give him a first place, and a 
second he disdained. His grand defect was a want of that 
will, which is the making of a man. He was tempted to 
spring from his horse which was carrying him forward against 
his will ; he saw that his feet were caught and held fast by 
the stirrups, he had not the strength to free himself and so re- 
mained in the saddle. As he could not be a great man, he 
abandoned himself to his destiny, which condemned him to 
be merely a rogue. On the reckoning day he declared him- 
self solvent, and the princess took possession of her bargain. 

“ Yes, poets are poisoners,” thought Count Abel Larinski. 
‘Hf Samuel Brohl had never read the ‘Merchant of Venice,’ 
nor ‘Egmont, a tragedy in five/ acts,’ nor Schiller’s ‘Ballads,’ 
he might have resigned himself to his new position; he would 
have seen its good side, he would have eaten and drank his 
shame easily, without being disturbed ; but he had read the 
poets, he felt disgust and nausea, his stomach rose. He 
longed to escape, and the princess suspected it. She kept 
him in her sight, she kept him short of money, only paying 
him crown by crown the quarterly instalments of his scanty 
allowance ; she said to herself : ‘ So long as he has nothing, 
he cannot escape.’ 

“ But she was mistaken, he contrived to escape, and \\ as so 
afraid of being recaptured, that, for some time, he hid him- 
self like a criminal from the police. He was constantly 


76 


SAMUEL 13K0HL AND PARTNER. 


fancying that the woman was at his heels. It was then for 
the first time that he made acquaintance with hunger, for in 
the land of Egypt there had been food. He lived on his 
wits and cursed the poets. 

“One day he learned that his father was dead, and 
hastened to secure his inheritance. He did not know that old 
Jeremiah Brohl had been in his dotage for the last two years, 
and that his debtors had mocked him by devouring his sub- 
stance. He came in for a fine property truly, two or three 
crazy chairs, four cracked walls that could scarcely stand up- 
right, and some jewels concealed in a secret hiding place which 
he knew of. Old Jeremiah not having been able to dispose of 
these at the price he asked, had preferred keeping them to 
selling them at a reduction. He had his principles, which 
was fortunate for Samuel, who found these jewels very use- 
ful. He disposed of a necklace, and went to Bucharest^ 
where some one had assured him there was a fortune to be 
made, 

“ There he gave music lessons ; this stupid occupation was 
very uncongenial to him, he disliked the dependence and 
regular hours. His male pupils wearied him to death, he 
would have liked to wring their necks ; his female pupils 
treated him like a dog, they never thought of his being hand- 
some, because they suspected him of being a Jew. What 
was he to do in Bucharest, a city where all the Germans are 
Jews, and Jews are not men ! Although he was earning a 
little money, melancholy preyed upon him, and at length one 
day he seriously thought of committing suicide.” 

Count Abel Larinski stooped and plucked a sprig of heather, 
he tickled his lips with it and began to laugh ; then striking 
his breast, he said half aloud ; “ Thank heaven, Samuel 
Brohl is not dead, for here he is.” 

It was true, Samuel Brohl was not dead, and had taken 
much more kindly to life since he had met Mademoiselle 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


77 


Antoinette Moriaz in the Cathedral at Chur. It was Samuel 
Brohl who had come to Cormeilles, and was sitting at that 
moment in the midst of an oak coppice. Possibly the lark, 
which he had heard singing a quarter of an hour before, had 
recognised him, for she had ceased her song. The peacock 
went on screaming, and his doleful cry sounded like a warn- 
ing. Yes, the man sitting on the heather and engaged in 
telling himself his own story was Samuel Brohl ; the proof of 
this is that he had laughed, and that Samuel Brohl sometimes 
laughed, whereas Count Abel Larinski never laughed, and 
what is more, had not been alive for the last four years : the 
latter reason is perhaps the better one. 

The man who, with or without his leave, we shall hence- 
forth call Samuel Brohl, reproached himself with his fit of 
gaiety as he would have reproached himself with a false note 
that might have escaped him in performing one of Mozart’s 
sonatas. He resumed his grave and dignified air to greet a 
phantom which had suddenly risen before him. It was the 
same that he had addressed one evening at the Steinbock 
Hotel, when he treated him as a crazy fellow, a visionary, and 
even a fool ; but this time he gave him a more indulgent and 
gracious reception. He did not wish to speak to him harshly, 
he felt kindly disposed towards him, he was under great 
obligations to him, and Samuel Brohl was not ungrateful. 

“ Ah, yes, my poor friend, here I am,” said he, addressing 
him in the mute language understood by phantoms. “ I 
have assumed your place and almost your appearance, I play 
your part in this Vanity Fair, and though your noble corpse 
has been lying six feet below ground for the last four years, 
yet, thanks to me, you are still alive. I always felt the 
sincerest admiration for you ; I looked on you as a pheno- 
menon, a prodigy. You were courage, devotion, and gener- 
osity itself ; you thought more of honour than all the gold 
mines of California, you hated every mean thought, and 


78 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


every questionable action ; your mother had reared you in 
every sublime folly, you were a true knight, a genuine Pole, 
the last Don Quixote in this age of sceptics, plunderers and 
interlopers. 

‘‘Blessings on the fate which brought us together ! You 
were living a retired, solitary, obscure life in a miserable 
hovel in one of the suburbs of Bucharest. Such is the way 
of the world ; you, who had nothing to conceal from men or 
God, and deserved a crown, were in hiding. Alas ! the 
Russian government had the bad taste to fail to appreciate 
your exploits, and you were afraid of its reclaiming you, and 
your being delivered up. From our first meeting, you took 
a fancy to me, and honoured me with your friendship : I 
spoke Polish, and you were fond of music. ^ I became your 
intimate friend, your one companion, your confidant. You 
will allow that to me you owed the last happy moments of 
your brief existence. I was soon acquainted with your birth, 
your youth, your enterprises and misfortunes. You initiated 
me also into the grand invention you had just perfected, and 
explained to me in detail the mechanism of your celebrated 
rifle. I was intelligent, I understood, or thought I under- 
stood it. This rifle, said you, would make my fortune some 
day, for you had given up all hopes for yourself ; you had a 
heart complaint, and knew yourself doomed to an early 
death. My imagination caught fire. At my request, you 
made up your mind to start with me for Vienna. This ex- 
pedition was to be fatal to you, but I swear that I never 
suspected it.” 

Samuel folded his hands over his knees, and continued : 
“May my tongue cleave to tlie roof of my mouth, may my 
blood curdle in my veins, may the marrow of my humiliated 
bones be dried up, if ever T forget the gratitude I owe you, 
Abel Larinski, and the wretched little town in which we 
spent the first night of our journey ! You were choking. 


SAMUBL BROfiL AND BARTNSR. 


70 


and had only time to awake me and call me. I came to 
your side ; with your dying voice you gave me your last in- 
structions. You put into my hands the last thousand florins 
you had left, which were as acceptable to me as an orange 
would have been to the shipwrecked crew of the Medusa ; 
then, pointing to a trunk containing your family relics, your 
letters, diary, and papers, you said : ‘ Destroy all those, 
Poland is dead, and let no one remember that I have ever 
lived.' And then you breathed your last. Well, I diso- 
beyed you, I confess. I kept your mother's portrait, your 
papers, and everything, and when I gave notice of your 
death to the authorities, I made them believe that the dead 
man was Samuel Brohl, and that Count Larinski was still 
living. 

‘‘Do you blame me? the temptation was too great. 
Samuel Brohl’s antecedents were irritating, he was of mean 
birth and had been sold ; there was a stain on his past his- 
tory which he could not remove, and, having been so 
unlucky as to read the poets, he sometimes despised himself. 
It was high time to bury him, and I was delighted to know 
him dead and to feel myself alive. 

“ As soon as I had succeeded in persuading myself that 1 
was really Count Abel Larinski, I was as happy as a child 
who haa just been decked out by its parents, and sees itself 
walking in its hew clothes. With your name, I acquired a 
noble history; I revelled in the past, I explored its every 
nook and corner with all the curiosity and pleasure of a poor 
devil going round the park he has just inherited. You 
bequeathed me your parents, your adventures, your exploits. 
When you fought for your country, I was there ; when you 
were wounded near Dubno, it was my flesh that was pierced 
by the ball. 

“Have you anything to complain of? Is not all common 
property between friends ? I left my own skin and entered 


80 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


yours ; it fits me, and I mean to keep it I resemble you 
perfectly by this time ; I assure you that if we could be seen 
together, it would be hard to distinguish one from the other. 
I have acquired your habits, your manners, your language, 
your way of carrying your head, your melancholy gaiety, 
your pride, your sentiments, everything, down to the colour 
of your hair, and your handwriting. I am become Abel 
Larinski ; I mistake, I am more of a Pole, more of a Larinski 
than yourself.” 

At this moment, Samuel Brohl’s face wore a strange ex- 
pression, his gaze was almost fixed. He had ceased to 
belong to this world, he was communing with a spirit ; but 
he was not awed or solemn, like Hamlet conversing with his 
father’s ghost. He treated the ghost of the true Abel 
Larinski with familiarity, just as you would treat a partner 
working with you in the same firm, to whom you must show 
your balance-sheet. 

“It may well be said, my dear Abel,” he continued, “that 
the principle of association works wonders ; man is so power- 
less alone ! But, of all partnerships, that which we two 
have formed is the most useful and convenient. A living 
and a dead man can render each other great services, and 
can have no differences. You ought to be content, you play 
the principal part and sign for the firm. We will not men- 
tion your rifle again ; it was a bad speculation which I have 
had some difficulty in overlooking. It was your imaginative 
brain that led us so far astray, but, thank heaven, we are on 
the right track now. 

“ Five weelcs since, we met a woman, and such a woman ! 
She has soft brown eyes, from which her glances gush like 
fresh sparkling water. Worthily to sing her graces, we 
must borrow the words of the Canticles. ‘ Pier lips drop as 
the honey-comb, her stature is like a palm-tree, and the 
smell of her garments is like the smell of Lebanon. There 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER, 


81 


is no spot in her; she is a garden enclosed, a fountain 
sealed.’ She will cry one day like the Shulamite: ‘Let my 
beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.’ 

“ She is ours, dear Larinski, my dear partner ; she has 
surrendered, and you and I both share the honour of the 
victory. I showed her my face and she did not object to it, 
and I told her your story, as you would have told it yourself, 
with delicacy and simplicity, without any additions or 
omissions. Her heart was touched and she gave it away. 
You shall marry her, she shall bear your name ; but you 
shall be married by proxy, and I will represent you. I 
promise always to regard myself as your representative, or 
rather, the property shall be yours, and I will have the en- 
joyment of it. Never fear lest I should forget what I owe 
you and the modesty befitting my position.” 

With these words, he waved his hand, as if to dismiss the 
phantom he had evoked, and it fled quivering with grief, 
shame, and indignation. The peacock gave a fresh scream, 
a doleful shriek. “ Stupid creature ! ” thought Samuel 
Brohl, with a shudder. 

He looked at his watch, and saw that the time had gone 
on ; some of it had been lost in talking to ghosts. He rose 
at once, and walked on towards Cormeilles, thence to reach, 
by an open road, the banks of the Seine and Sartrouville, 
tlie spire of whose belfry he could see. 

When he had descended the ridge, he looked back and 
saw on the top of the hill, in a gap left by the tortuous 
branches of two plane-trees, a white wall shining amidst the 
greenery, and a little above it the pointed roof of the dove- 
cote in which Mademoiselle Moriaz’s pigeons were roosting. 
He threw an ardent kiss into the air ; the kiss was meant 
for both pigeons and dove-cote, the house as well as the 
woman, the woman as well as the house. 

For the first time in his life, Samuel Brohl was in love ; 

F 


82 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


but Samuel Brolils do not love after the same fashion as 
Abel Larinskis When they adore a woman, beautiful as the 
picture may be, they dike the frame, provided it be rich 
enough, quite as much as the portrait, and their object is 
to possess their mistress with all her surroundings and 
belongiugs. 


CH APTER V. 

Madame de Lorcy was a woman of about fifty, with some 
remains of beauty. She had been a widow for many a year 
and had never thought of marrying again. Though she had 
been happy in her married life, she considered liberty the 
first of blessings, and made an irreproachable use of hers. 
She had a good head, knew more about figures than finery, 
and administered her own fortune, which was no trifie. 
Liking to employ her time well, she managed to spare some 
to devote to the affairs of others. She had a vocation for the 
profession of consulting counsel. Her advice was generally 
sensible and judicious, and her friends could not do better 
than follow it ; her clients merely complained that she was 
inexorable, that she issued her decrees without much con- 
sideration for those concerned, and permitted no appeal from 
them. She was kind and charitable, but not very suscept- 
ible, and showed little tenderness for her neigbours’ delusions. 

A German poet, in distributing his wishes for the new 
year, wished the rich a little feeling, the poor a piece of bread, 
women lovely dresses, men a little patience, fools a little 
sense, and sensible people a little poetry. Madame de Lorcy 
had some feeling, lovely dresses, and plenty of sense ; but 
her sense lacked a touch of poetry, and the poets whom she 
counselled needed a great deal of patience to hear her to the 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


83 


end. Those who dared to neglect her advice and make 
themselves happy in their own way incurred her displeasure 
■for ever ; she maintained stoutly that their pretended bliss 
was all a sham, that they had tied a weight round their 
necks, that at the bottom of their hearts, without showing it, 
they were repenting heartily, and she added : “ It is not 
my fault, I told you so, but — you would not believe me.” 

Madame de Lorcy felt an almost maternal affection for her 
nephew, M. Camille Langis ; when he confided to her his 
attachment, she promised that he should marry Mademoiselle 
Antoinette Moriaz. He was certainly rather young ; but 
she had decided that his age was a trifling matter, and that 
in everything else the two were perfectly matched. M. 
Langis had hesitated some time before making his proposal ; 
he said to Madame de Lorcy : If she refuses me, I shall 

not be able to see her again, and so long as I can see her I 
am but half wretched.” 

It was Madame de Lorcy who had thrust his sword into 
liis hand and forced him to open the campaign in which 
she was to act as his second. The campaign had been un- 
successful. Greatly ruffiod by Mademoiselle Moriaz’s refusal, 
after vainly bantering, attacking, and entreating her, she 
was on the point of quarrelling with her. To appease her, 
the sentence w'as declared not to be final, or at least the con- 
demned man was allowed to lodge an appeal. M. Langis 
liad gone to Hungary and had now^ returned. Antoinette 
had refused two suitors in the interval, which made Madame 
de Lorcy augur favourably for her project. Thus she felt 
thwarted and irritated on receiving the following letter from 
M. Moriaz : — 

“ Dear Madame, — You will .be delighted to hear how well 
I am. My cheeks are plump, and my complexion rosy, I 
have the legs of a chamois and the appetite of an ogre. 
Should you ever be troubled wdth anoemia, which heaven for- 


84 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


bid, go to St. Moritz and you will have wonders to report. 
After three days, you will think of nothing but eating ; that 
is the general occupation here. I no longer eat, I devour ; 
dinner hardly ever comes without my asking for more. I 
am a terror to my neighbours, they watch every movement 
of my knife with anxiety ; they seem to be asking : ‘ Are wo 
safe ? Will his second help suffice him ? * In short, dear 
madame, all goes well, and I am happy, very happy, and 
yet I am not. You will ask me why ; how shall I answer ? 

‘‘St. Moritz is a place, where people find what they seek, 
but sometimes also what they do not seek. I am not speak- 
ing of bears, I have seen none, and if I did meet one, I feel 
as if I had strength enough to strangle it. Besides, bears 
are quiet creatures who don^t relate their history, and the 
only creatures I dread are those who tell theirs without our 
being allowed to strangle them. I say no more ; have I made 
myself understood ? You are so intelligent ! 

“ By the way, Antoinette is sending you a pencil or water- 
colour sketch, I know not which, by the hands of Count Abel 
Larinski. He is a Pole, as you may be sure, you will dis- 
cover that at once. I am much indebted to him ; he was 
good enough to rescue me from a break-neck place in which 
I had been so foolish as to imprison myselt. If I have still 
a pair of legs to run on and a pair of hands to write with, I 
owe them to him. I commend him to your kindness, and 
beg you will make him tell you his story. He is ready to 
tell it, not every day, certainly ; but if you touch the right 
spring, off he goes and nothing can stop him. 

“ Seriously, M. Larinski is no common man, and you will 
be pleased to make his acquaintance. I have discovered that 
he is in somewhat straitened circumstances. He is the son 
of an exile whose estates have been confiscated. His father 
was a sort of madman, who set his heart on cutting through 
the isthmus of Panama and found himself with nothing to 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


85 


cut. He himself was making money at San Francisco ; but 
in 1863 he left everything to go and fight against the 
Russians. This exalted patriot has since pursued the profes- 
sion of an inventor without success, and is now in search 
of some means of earning his living. 

“ Don’t think that he is going to ask for anything, he is 
an hidalgo, and drapes himself as proudly in his poverty as 
a Castilian in his cloak. I am interested in him, I wish to 
help him and give him a lift ; but I wish first to make sure 
that he is really worthy of my sympathy. Study him closely ; 
sift him well. I have more confidence in your eyes than my 
own, I think you a mistress in the art of discrimination. 

“ Antoinette desires to be most affectionately remembered 
to you. She is delighted with St. Moritz, she seems to have 
found something in it to charm her. For my part, pleased 
as I am to have regained my appetite, sleep, and everything 
else, T regret that we came here ; reconcile these statements 
of mine. Send me word as soon as you can what you think 
of my Pole ; but oblige me by not condemning him till you 
have heard him. Don’t make up your mind beforehand, I 
entreat ; an expert is bound to be on his guard against 
prejudices and to weigh his judgments as well as his words.” 

Madame de Lorcy answered as follows, by return of post : 

“You are a child, my dear professor, and your artifices 
transparent ; I understand you only too well. Has she 
carried her madness to this pitch ? I thought it was in her ; 
but she has astonished me and gone further than I expected. 
You may tell her so from me, or rather do not tell her ; I 
am only speaking to you, for I am too angry with her to 
attempt to bring her to reason. I wifi see your Pole, I shall 
await him without flinching ; but in reality I have seen 
him already ; I know him, know him by heart ; he is some 
impostor, you may be sure. I shall examine him without 


SAMUIJL BHOllL AND BABTNM. 


S6 

prejudice, with the strictest impartiality. It is kind of yoii 
to remind me that an expert ought to suspend judgment. 
I shall bring my little police force into the field, and you 
shall soon learn what I think of yom* adventurer. Yes, im 
deed I pity you, poor man ! But af ter all, it is your own 
doing ; is it my fault if you did not know how to proceed ? 
God bless you ! ” 

At the very hour when Samuel Brohl, sitting on the 
heather in the midst of an oak coppice, was conversing with 
phantoms, Madame de Lorcy, alone in her drawing-room, 
was occupied in working tapestry and pursuing her thoughts, 
which revolved in a circle like circus horses. She had been 
expecting Count Larinski^s call for several days, she was 
surprised at his showing so little eagerness, and suspected 
him of being afraid of her, a suspicion which pleased her. 
Again and again she thought that she heard a man’s step in 
the ante-chamber,- and gave a nervous start, making her 
pink cap ribbons flutter on her shoulders. ^ 

Suddenly, as with head bent down she was counting her 
stitches, some one who had just entered without her seeing 
him took her hand, kissed it affectionately, and then, flinging 
his hat on a table, threw himself into a chair, where he re- 
mained motionless with outstretched legs and eyes fixed on 
the ground. 

‘‘What, is it you, Camille?” exclaimed Madame de Lorcy. 
“ Your arrival is very opportune. AYell ? ” 

“Well? Well, indeed, madame,” replied M. Langis, “you 
see before you the most miserable of men. Why is your 
pond dry? I should have thrown myself in head foremost.” 

Madame de Lorcy lajd down her embroidery ; then folding 
her arms : “ Have you come from the Engadine ? ” she 

resumed. 

“ Would that I had never gone there ! It is a country 
where poison is sold, and I have drunk of it.” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


87 


Never mind metaphors. You saw her? What did you 
say to her ? 

‘‘Nothing, madame, nothing of what was in my heart. I 
made her believe that I had reflected and changed my mind, 
that my foolish passion for her was thoroughly cured, and 
that I was simply paying her a friendly or casual visit. Yes, 
madame, I spent half a day in her company, and during the 
whole time I never once betrayed myself, but persuaded her 
that my mask was my face. Now tell me if you ever read a 
more heroic trait in Plutarch^s Lives ? ” 

“ And what did she say to you ? 

“ She was so enchanted and delighted at the change iu 
me, that she longed to embrace me.” 

“ She shall pay for it. And did you see him ? ” 

“I had a glimpse, looking up at him, as became the 
humility of my condition. This glorious and favoured 
mortal was perched on the top of a coach.” 

“ Is he really very attractive ? ” 

“ It seems that his eyes have unfathomable depths, and he 
bears his exploits written on his forehead. Who am I that 
I should compete with him ? You will own, madame, that I 
have the face of a school-boy. And yet, if I chose to boast 
— You may imagine that the road I undertook to make in 
Transylvania was not an easy one to construct. We cut it 
througii the solid rock, working in the air, suspended by 
ropes. The perilous task disheartened our workmen, some 
left me; to encourage the others, I had myself similarly 
fastened and plied the pickaxe with them. One day, when a 
mine was flred, a stone splinter struck one of my men’s ropes 
with such violence that it cut it in two as clean as a razor. 
The man fell, and I thought him lost. By a miracle, his 
clothes caught in some bushes to which he managed to cling. 
I was the one to go to his rescue ; and I can assure you that 
in saving him I proved the strength of my muscles, and was 


88 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


twenty times in danger of breaking my neck. My workmen 
had mistrusted my youth, but from that day forward, I can 
tell you, they respected me.’’ 

“ Did you relate this incident to Antoinette 

“ Where, may I ask, would have been the use ? Women 
are not satisfied with your being a great man unless you 
look it.” And Camille Langis, clenching his fist, continued : 
‘‘ Pray, madame, can you tell me where a Polish head, 
Polish moustache, and Polish smile are to be bought 1 Please 
tell me where such wares are on sale, and at what price ? I 

am ready to pay whatever they ask Oh, what a set women 

are ! plague take them !” 

Aunts included asked Madame de Lorcy, gravely. 

He grew calmer, and replied : ‘‘No, madame, you are an 
extraordinary woman, there are no two like you, and I 
remember you every day in my prayers. You are my only 
refuge, my consoler and counsellor. Don’t withhold your 
precious advice. What shall I do ?” 

Madame de Lorcy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, 
and then said: “Transfer your affections, dear nephew; leave 
this mad girl to her fate and her Pole.” 

He sprang to his feet, exclaiming : “ You ask me to do 
what is impossible. I am no longer my own master, she has 
gained possession of me and holds me fast. Transfer my 
iiftections ? How can you imagine such a thing 1 I hate her, 
I curse her, but I adore her.” 

“You ought to be as much on your guard against hyper- 
bole as metaphor,” she replied, “ they are hollow sounds. 
When people make up their mind to cease loving, they do it.” 

“ That is when they have hearts to spare. I never 
had but one, and it is given away. Then you refuse to ad- 
\rise me 

“ What advice can I give you until I have seen M. Larinski 
and taken the hero’s measure ?” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


89 


“ What 1 are you expecting 'to see him V 

I look for a call from him, and am complaining of being 
kept in suspense.” 

Will you really receive this man 

‘‘ I have been asked to examine him.” 

“ Then I am lost, since you think it necessaiy to hear him 
before condemning him. Our most sacred duty is to be 
resolutely unjust to our friends^ enemies.” 

“ Never fear, I shall have no pity for him.” 

“ Do as you like, I have a plan of my own.” 

‘‘ What is that T 

I will try to pick a quarrel about some trifle with this 
poacher, and I will blow his brains out.” 

“ What a happy idea, my dear Camille ! You will make a 
great deal of progress now, by killing him, wonT you ? Do 
you trust me ? I have done very much for you already. 
The Abb6 Miollens, as you are aware, knows a good deal 
about Polish exiles, I have asked him to make inquiries, and I 
have written also to Vienna for information. Antoinette is 
as mad as a March hare, I agree ; but on points of honour 
she is as dainty as an ermine could be about the whiteness of 
its fur, and if there were the slightest stain on M. Larinski’s 
past history, no bigger than a ten sous piece, she would soon 
forget him altogether. Leave it all to me, be prudent and 
don’t blow out any one’s brains. What would become of us 
if the only way of ridding ourselves of objectionable people 
were by killing them ?” 

As she was uttering these words, a servant entered, 
bringing a card on a silver waiter. She took it and 
cried : “ Speak of the devil here is the very man !” 

She begged M. Langis to withdraw ; he asked leave to 
stay, promising to behave in the most exemplary manner. 
She was trying to persuade him to go, when Count Abel 
Larinski entered. 


90 


SAMUEB BROHL AND PARTNER. 


Samuel Brohl had scarcely* advanced three steps into 
Madame de Lorcy's drawing-room, when he guessed why M. 
Moriaz had begged him to come, and what was the object 
of the commission with which he had been entrusted. 
Though the room fronted south, he felt it strike cold, even 
in the middle of August. He fancied he felt an icy wind, a 
chilling draught, go through him and make him shiver. He 
had no need to observe Madame de Lorcy closely, to convince 
himself that he stood before his judge, and that the judge 
was not predisposed in his favour, and as soon as his eye met 
that of M. Camille Langis, something warned him that this 
young man was his enemy. Samuel Brohl had the gift of 
perception. 

He delivered his message, gave Madame de Lorcy the 
little parcel containing Mademoiselle Moriaz^s sketch, and 
exj)ressed his regret at having been too much engaged to come 
sooner. Madame de Lorcy thanked him rather curtly for his 
courtesy, and asked for news of her god-daughter. He did 
not enlarge on this topic. 

‘‘ The valley of St. Moritz is a dull place,” said she. 

“ Say rather, madame, a dull place with many attractions 
for those who like it.” 

‘Ht seems Mademoiselle Moriaz is wearied to death there.” 

** Ho you think she ever suffers from ennui anywhere ?” 

To be sure she does, but she relies on her imagination 
for amusement. She has a wonderful gift for entertaining 
herself, and varying her pleasures. Her imagination is 
fickle, it soon tires of its hobby, and finds some other to ride.” 

‘‘An invaluable resource,” he remarked, curtly. “But I 
assure you that you malign the Engadine. The trees there 
are not so well grown as those in your grounds ; but the firs 
and cedars have a beauty of their own.” 

“ I suppose you went to this hole for the sake of your 
health, count?” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


91 


‘‘Yes, and no, maclame. I am not ill; but my doctor 
maintained that I should be still better if I breathed the air 
of the Alps for three weeks. I have been laying in a stock 
of health for future needs.” 

“ M. Larinski ascended the Morteratsch,” put in Camille, 
who, seated on an ottoman, with his arms resting on his 
knees, kept a harsh hostile gaze fixed on Samuel Brohl. 
‘‘That is an exploit only practicable to people in good 
health.” 

“It is no exploit,” remarked Samuel, “only a work of 
patience, easy to any one not subject to dizziness.” 

“You are too modest,” continued the young man. “Had 
I done as much, I should blow my trumpet.” 

“ Have you tried the ascent ? ” asked Samuel. 

“Never, I don’t care about having exploits to narrate,” 
replied Camille in an almost insulting tone. 

Madame de Lorcy hastened to interpose, saying : “Is this 
the first time you have been in Paris, count ? ” 

“ Yes, madame,” answered Samuel, retiring more and more 
into his shell. 

“ And do you like Paris as well as an Alpine cedar 1 ” 

“Much better, madame.” 

“ Have you any friends there ? ” 

“ None, and to say the truth, I care little about making 
any.” 

“ How is that ? ” 

“ Shall I tell you why ? I don’t like breaking through 
ice, and Poles complain of Parisian coldness being the most 
icy in the world.” 

“That is easily explained,” exclaimed Camille. “Paris, 
the true Paris, is a little city with a population of a hundred 
thousand, and this little city is continually invaded by 
foreigners, who come in search of pleasure or fortune. Paris 
has naturally to act on the defensive.” 


92 


S^UEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


“ The Parisians pride themselves on their acuteness,” re- 
marked Samuel. “ It is easy enough to distinguish an honest 
man from an adventurer.” 

‘‘I beg your pardon,” rejoined M. Langis, “it requires a 
great deal of practice. The cleverest people are often de- 
ceived.” 

Samuel Brohl rose as if to take leave. Madame de Lorcy 
prevailed on him to resume his seat. She felt that she was 
not taking the right course to fulfil her mission as cross- 
examining counsel, and to gain the defendant’s confidence. 
Fearing lest Camille, notwithstanding his promise, might 
spoil all by some deliberate insult, she found a pretext for 
dismissing him, and begged him to go and examine a pair of 
horses which she had recently purchased. 

As soon as he had left the room, she changed her tone, and 
became gracious ; she set to work to remove the unpleasant 
impression made by his first reception, and Count Abel, 
feeling the atmosphere thaw, was set at ease. Without 
seeming to submit him to a cross-examination, she put a 
great many questions, to which he readily replied. Some 
visitors dropped in ; it was an hour before he took his leave, 
after promising Madame de Lorcy to dine with her the 
following day. 

She did not wait till then before writing to M. Moriaz. 
Her letter ran thus : 

“August 16th, 1875. 

“My dear Friend, — You recommend me to be impartial. 
Why should I not be 1 I had indeed dreamed of a certain 
marriage ; but one of the parties would not listen, to my 
suggestions, and the other has cried off, so there is an end 
of my project, and Camille has enjoined me never to mention 
it again. You see that I have no longer any interest in the 
subject, or rather none but that which I feel in Antoinette, 
whose happiness is as dear to me as to you. By the way. 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


93 


don^t show her my letters ; read to her such passages as you 
think desirable, I leave this to your discretion. 

“ Let me begin by giving you my ideas. People reproach 
me for being prejudiced ; it is a dreadful calumny. I am 
going to tell you my creed, and you shall judge ; I quarrel 
with our French customs in more than one point ; I deplore 
the habit we have acquired of considering marriage as a 
contract, a kind of financial or commercial association, and 
of subordinating everything to the great principle of an 
equality of worldly possessions. This principle is revolting 
to me, dear friend. Foreigners accuse us of being an im- 
moral nation. Heaven forbid ! I am confident that we 
know and practise virtue as much as the English or Germans, 
and indeed, I should not shrink from maintaining that, of all 
countries in the world, ours is the most moral. That is not 
our failing. Our weakness is to be too sensible in our view 
of life, too circumspect, too prudent ; we have no boldness 
in our enterprises, we like, as the saying runs, to have one 
foot on firm ground, and the other at no great distance. 
We require security and dislike risk, speculations are uncon- 
genial to us, we have too much foresight, and foresight 
means timidity. This is why we make no colonies and have 
such small families. Do. I satisfy you ? 

‘‘Napoleon 1. used to say that in giving battle, he ar- 
ranged to have seventy chances out of the hundred in his 
favour; the rest he left to fate. Well, good people, life is a 
battle ; but the Frenchman of to-day will risk nothing. He 
is the most respectable but the least romantic of men, and I 
am dissatisfied with him. Read this passage in my letter to 
Antoinette. 

“Our young people think they have a right to their 
parents’ fortune ; they are of opinion that their father would 
not be doing his duty if he did not leave them an assured 
position, a settled future. Their seconc^care is to find a 


94 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


wife who will bring them at least as much as they can offer. 
‘I have so much, you have so much, we were evidently 
made for one another, let us marry.’ All this is deplorable. 

‘‘ Tell me rather of the young American, accustomed to 
expect nothing from his parents but the education necessary 
to a man who has his way to make ; he has his tools put 
into his hands and is taught how to use them, but has not a 
penny given him. ‘ You have learnt swimming, then swim, 
my friend.’ Then he generally marries a woman without a 
farthing, who likes to spend. Let each man manage his 
own affairs ! May the almighty dollar protect him, he will 
play his part in life gaily, and his wife will have no scruple 
in presenting him with ten children, who will work their 
way like himself. Let thirst marry hunger, it makes happy 
marriages and strong nations. Am I not romantic enough 
in all conscience? 

Allow me to examine another case. Here is a man with 
some fortune; it enables him to consult nothing but his 
heart, and offer his name and income to a portionless woman 
whom he loves. I clap my hands, I approve of this proceeding 
and regret that we see so few instances of it among ourselves. 
Princes are rarely found to marry shepherdesses in France ; 
on the other hand, we too often see handsome young fellows 
with little principle marrying heiresses, and these are cases 
open to the gravest objections. 

“ In a novel or on the stage, the poor young man who 
marries a millionaire’s daughter is an excellent person ; but 
in life it is otherwise. It may do if the poor young man has 
a trade or calling, and can make sufficient by his work to 
render him independent of his wife ; but if he consents to 
dependence, expects her to supply his daily bread, submits to 
live in his wife’s house, roll in his wife’s carriage, asks her to 
supply him with clothes, pocket-money, and perhaps to keep 
his mistresses, l^ay frankly that the young man has no self- 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


95 


respect, and what is a man without it ? Besides, who can 
guarantee that when he marries, he has fallen in love with 
his wife and not with her fortune ? Who can assure me 
that Count Abel Larinski — I will not mention names, person- 
alities are odious, and I own there are exceptions. But how 
rare they are ! 

“Were I in Antoinette’s place, I should love the poor ; but 
for their own sake, I would not marry them. The interests 
indeed of the whole human race are concerned : beggars have 
a talent for invention, leave them to themselves and they will 
invent a J acquard loom or something of the sort ; give them 
the key of a strong box, and they will seek nothing further, 
you will have scotched their genius. 

“My dear professor, I have arranged a good many matches 
during the last fifteen years. I have married hunger and 
thirst three times, and by God’s help decided a millionaire to 
marry a penniless girl, but I never thought of helping a 
beggar to marry a rich one. Such are my ideas and my 
principles. Are you still listening ? Sometimes you go to 
sleep during a sermon — there, your eyes are open now ; I 
shall go on. 

“ I have seen your man. Well ! To speak frankly, I only 
half like him. He has a very fine head, I must own, and 
would be a fortune to a sculptor. Then his eyes are very 
interesting, grave, sweet, gay or melancholy by turns. I 
have nothing to say against his manners or way of speaking ; 
he can take his place in society, and is far from being a fool. 
With all this, there is something peculiar about him, a sort 
of mixture of two characters which I cannot understand. 
He sems like a lion or a fox according to circumstances ; I 
think the fox predominates and the lion comes out accident- 
ally. I am simply giving you my impressions such as they 
are, and am ready to retract them. I fancy that M. Larinski’s 
early days were passed among rather vulgar surroundings ; 


96 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


later on, he has been polished in good society, and, being in- 
telligent, soon rubbed off all traces of vulgarity, though some 
of a man’s early habits always cling to him. While he was 
in my drawing-room, he twice give an appraiser’s glance, you 
know what I mean, the glance that takes in a whole room in 
a minute, and can tell almost to a farthing what it contains 
is worth. It was at that moment above all that he looked 
like the fox. 

‘‘ This is not all. I was reading the other day, in a tale 
translated from the Danish, of a princess who travelled all 
over the world and demanded hospitality one night at the 
gate of a palace. Was she a real princess or an impostor ? 
The queen who took her in, thought it well to ascertain, and 
for this purpose, prepared for the stranger with her own hands 
the softest of beds, consisting of five mattresses piled on two 
palliasses, while between the latter she took care to slip three 
grey peas. Next morning the stranger was asked how she 
had slept. ‘ Very ill indeed,’ was her reply ; ‘ I don’t know 
what there was in my bed, but it bruised me dreadfully, I have 
the marks still, and I never closed my eyes till daybreak.’ 
‘ She is a real princess,’ cried the queen. 

“ Is M. Larinski a real prince ? I put him to the test of 
the three grey peas. I allowed myself to question him with 
an intrusive, pressing, indiscreet curiosity, and he did not 
appear to feel this. He replied with readiness or resignation, 
taking pains to satisfy me, and I was not satisfied. I shall 
see him again to-morrow, he is to come and dine here. I 
only wish to prove to myself that he is a real prince. 

“ My dear professor, you are the most imprudent of men, 
and whatever may happen, you have only yourself to blame. 
People ought not to be so ready in throwing their doors open 
to strangers. You will tell me that you owe it to M. Larinski 
that you did not break your leg in climbing down from your 
rock, but, bless me, a father should break his leg in three 


3AMUEL BROSL AND PARTNEjR. &7 

places rather than run the risk of giving his daughter to an 
adventurer ; he can have his leg set. A mere trifle ! 

“ P.S . — I have opened my letter, wishing to prove to 
you how just I wish to be, and the extent of my impartiality. 
You know that the Abbe Miollens, my neighbour, has lived in 
Poland a long time, and that he is well received at the Hotel 
Lambert. I begged him to make inquiries, without giving 
him any explanation, of course. He brings me word that 
Count Abel Larinski is a real count. His father, the con- 
fiscated estates, the emigration to America, the isthmus of 
Panama — all this is quite true, it is a genuine story. The 
Countess Larinski was a saint. As to the son, nothing is 
known of him ; he must have been only three or four years 
old when he landed on the quays of New York. No one has 
ever seen him, nor knew of his having taken part in the insur- 
rection of 1863. As he has told the truth about his parents, 
we may suppose that he has told the truth about himself. 
So far, so good ; but a man may have fought for his country 
and had a saint for his mother, without possessing any of 
those qualities which make a home happy. Well, I retract 
my epithet of adventurer; but I adhere to my opinion. Why 
did he give that appraiser’s glance ? Why does he sleep so 
soundly in a bed containing three grey peas? 

“ Kiss Antoinette for me. Give Mademoiselle Moiseney my 
respects, without telling her that she is a regular sycophant, a 
conviction with which I shall die. Was that dreadful rock so 
very hard to descend ? ” 

Two days later Madame de Lorcy wrote a second letter : 

August 18th. 

“ My dear Sir, — I have just received an answer I was ex- 
pecting from Vienna, and hasten to make you acquainted 
with it. I Il .I applied to our friend, Baron — , chief secre- 
tary to the French Embassy at Vienna, to learn what reputa- 


98 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


tion Count Larinski had left behind him. He is looked upon 
there as a gentleman, an inventor of greater rashness than 
prudence, a thorough-going patriot, one of those Poles who 
can see nothing but Poland and their Utopia, and would set 
the world on fire without scruple in order to roast their own 
chestnuts in the embers. There seems to have been some 
good features about that explosive gun of his, and its in- 
ventor unites a kind of genius with an inexperience, ignor- 
ance and simplicity that might bring tears to your eyes. Of 
his private life there is nothing to be said. He had some 
debts, and his creditors felt uneasy when they saw him leave 
Vienna quietly one morning. He had scarcely arrived in 
Switzerland when he seems to have forwarded money and 
paid everything. This speaks well for him. As to the rest, 
his tastes were simple and his life regular ; it was the gun 
that upset his budget. I may add that M. Larinski visited 
at several good houses in Vienna, and has left a very pleasing 
impression there. He was in especial request for his musical 
talents, about which there is much less doubt than the gun- 
making ones. He plays the piano splendidly, and has a very 
fine voice. By cultivating it, he might have made his way 
at the Opera; but his dignity keeps him back. This is 
Baron, B— ^ — ^s account. On my honour, I have neither 
added nor omitted anything. 

“ I am going to astonish you. Will you believe that I 
am about to reconcile myself to Count Larinski? What 
shocked me may be explained and excused by his long 
residence in America. He is a mixture of the Yankee and 
the Pole. Far from being prejudiced against him, I am now 
prepossessed in his favour. Do you know that I am not at 
all sure whether he entertains any serious feeling for your 
daughter 1 He admires her, and, being a man of taste, I 
don’t see how he can help it. I suspect Antoinette of 
having filled her head with some absurd notions. He speaks 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 99 

of her on every occasion as calmly aaid deliberately as if he 
were speaking of a work of art ; I cannot believe that he is 
in love. I look in vain into his green eyes, I cannot dis- 
cover any danger. 

“He came to dinner yesterday, as I told you. I had 
invited the Abb4 Miollens, and Camille had invited himself 
under a promise of acting like a sage ; the promise was but 
half kept, for I must let you know that for some unknown 
reason my nephew has conceived the greatest antipathy to 
M. Larinski ; he is apt to take dislikes. During dinner, the 
Abb6 Miollens, a great linguist and traveller, who knows 
Poland and the Poles by heart, turned the conversation upon 
the insurrection of 1863. M. Larinski refused at first to enter 
on this sad subject, but by degrees the flood-gates opened. 
He told us the history of his prank or campaign without 
putting himself forward, but giving all the praise to others ; 
when suddenly something seemed to rise in his throat, his 
eyes filled, he broke off and begged us to talk of something 
else. Fortunately, he was not looking at that moment at 
Camille, whose lips were curved into a bitter smile. Young 
France has become so sceptical ! I frowned on the naughty 
boy, and, as I rose from table, sent him to smoke his cigar 
in the park. 

“ I must confess that M. Larinski has won over the Abb6 
Miollens, who is hard to please and disputes the privilege of 
fathoming hearts with the Almighty. You are aware that 
the abb6 is a remarkable violinist ; he sent for his instru- 
ment, M. Larinski sat down to the piano, and the two 
gentlemen played a concerto of MozarPs, a divine perfor- 
mance by two first-rate musicians. The conversation which 
followed delighted me even more than thd concerto. 

“ I forget what fatal concatenation brought us to discuss 
marriage. I did not miss this opportunity for airing; quite 
innocently, the little theories which you are aware of. Will 


100 SAMUEL BROHL ANR PARTNER. 

you believe that the count agrees with me, nay, goes still 
farther. He is more of a royalist than the king himself, 
and won^t admit of any exceptions to the rule. According 
to him, the poor man who marries a rich wife forfeits his 
honour, degrades and sells himself ; he is living on charity. 
On this theme he enlarged with gloomy eloquence. I assure 
you that the lion no longer resembles a fox. 

‘‘ After this fine musician and great orator had left, the 
Abb4 Miollens, who had remained, told me how charmed he 
had been with his conversation and manners; he seemed 
never tired of singing his praises, and went a little too far, I 
thought. But I joined him in regretting that a man of such 
merit should be reduced to expedients for a living. The 
abb6 has a good deal of influence ; he promised me to set to 
work at once to find some employment for M. Larinski. It 
has just occurred to him that there is some talk of forming 
an International College for living languages in London. 
One of the founders of this institution has applied to him to 
ask whether he can recommend any professor of the Slavonic 
tongues. This would suit us exactly, and I should be 
delighted to procure your prot6g6 any occupation which 
might ensure him all the happiness to be found on the other 
side of the Channel. After this, can you still reproach me 
for being prejudiced against him ? 

“ Good-bye, dear sir ; my love to your sweet daughter. I 
trust you to be discreet and careful in reading my letters to 
her. Little girls can only be told half the truth.” 

A week later, Madame de Lorcy wrote a third letter to 
this effect ; 

August 25th. 

“I am more and more pleased with M. Larinski, and 
vexed with myself for having ever mistrusted him. The 
Viennese were quite right in thinking him a gentleman, and 
the Abbe Miollens did not overrate him. On your side, 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


101 


dear friend, you write me word that you are not distressed 
about Antoinette, that she is cheerful and composed, that 
she walks, paints, and never mentions Count Abel Larinski, 
and that when you speak of him, she smiles and says 
nothing. You assert that she has reflected, and that time 
and distance have had their effect. ‘ Out of sight, out of 
mind ! ^ you cry. Beware, I am less confiding; are you sure 
that Antoinette is no hypocrite ? 

“ At any rate she has written me a charming letter, which 
makes no more mention of M. Larinski than if there were no 
Poland and no Poles in existence. She praises the Engadine, 
and declares that she wishes for nothing better than to end 
her days in a pine forest. I understand what she means, it 
would be a pine forest of her own choosing, where she would 
find parties, balls, select dinners, a salon, a Conservatoire 
of music, and M. Garni er’s Opera. The last paragraph in 
her letter is devoted to the insurrection in Herzegovina, 
where her sympathies are of coimse completely on the side of 
the insurgents. ‘ If I were a man,’ she writes, ‘ I should go 
and fight for them.’ Just like her, she always took the 
part of the thieves in opposition to the police. I remember 
once, when she was only ten years old, telling her the 
adventure of an unfortunate traveller besieged in a forest by 
an army of wolves. He had barricaded himself in, and 
kindled large fires around his barricade. The wolves fell 
into the flames, and were roasted one after the other. 
Antoinette began to shed scalding tears, and I fancied she 
was pitying the unfortunate man’fe terror. Notin the least ; 
she exclaimed, ‘ Poor, poor creatures ! ’ It is her nature, and 
we cannot alter it. She will always take the w^olves’ part, 
especially if they are lean and find it difficult to make both 
ends meet. 

I told you that Count Larinski was a gentleman. He 
capie to see me the d^y before yesterday. We have 


102 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


come great friends. When I asked him if he still liked 
Paris, he replied with the most courteous smile, ‘ What I 
like best in Paris is Maisons-Laffitte.’ Whereupon he 
added many pretty things which I shall not repeat. We 
walked all round the park together; thank heaven, I 
succee(^'^d in withstanding his fascinations. 

“We conversed politely ; he is called an enthusiast, but 
he has some sound sense. I inquired whether he was a 
Turk or a Bosnian, and he replied : ‘ As a Christian and a 
Catholic, I am interested in the Oriental Christians, and take 
the part of the Cross against the Crescent.* He pronounced 
the words Christian^ Catholic and Gross, with much 
emphasis ; I suspect he is rather a bigot. He added, ‘ As a 
Pole, I am for the Turks.* 

“ ‘ I thought,’ said I, ‘that the Poles sympathised with 
all the oppressed.* 

“ ‘ The Poles,* he replied, ‘ cannot love whom their 
oppressors love, and can never forget that the Osmanlis 
are their natural allies and sometimes their refuge.* 

“ I gave him Antoinette’s letter to read ; I was glad of 
this opportunity of showing him that she can write a whole 
sheet without asking after him. He perused it with the 
greatest attention, but when he came to the remarkable 
passage : ‘ If I were a man, I would go and fight for them ! * 
he smiled and handed it back to me, saying disdainfully and 
rather drily, 

“ ‘ Tell Mademoiselle Moriaz from me that I call myself a 
man, but that I shall not fight for the Bosnians, and that 
the Turks are my great friends.* 

“ ‘ She is crazy,* said I. ‘ Happily her craze changes 
with every moon.* 

“ ‘ What would you have % * he replied. ‘ It is better to 
be a little mad than commonplace. My poor mother often 
said, ‘My son, we ought to lay in a stock of absurd en- 


BAMUBL BROliL AND PARTNER. 


103 


thiisiasms in our youth, or else we shall reach the end of 
oui' journey with an empty heart, for we lose a great many 
on our way.^ ’ 

“ Lay aside your violent alarms, my lord ; no one has 
any designs ^on your daughter; we think her charming, but 
are not in love with her. Using many precautions and 
circumlocutions, I managed to question Count Larinski 
delicately about his affairs, a subject on which he never 
opens his lips. He frowned. I did not lose courage, but 
suggested this appointment as professor of the Slavonic 
languages, of which the Abb6 had again spoken. I was ex- 
pecting his suspicious pride to flare up any moment. But, 
upon reflection, he softened, thanked me, declined my kind 
offer and announced — guess what ? What is my news 
worth? How much will you give me for it? — He announced, 
I say, that in a fortnight, mark me well, he was going back 
to Vienna, where he had a post promised him in the archive 
office under the Minister for War. I durst not ask him 
what it was worth ; after all, if it satisfies him, it ought to 
satisfy us. I told you that Count Larinski was a gentle- 
man ! — In another fortnight ! — You understand me. 

‘‘ I am delighted to learn, my dear friend, how completely 
your health has been restored by the waters of St. Moritz 
and the air of the Engadine; but don’t be imprudent. 
Partial cures are fatal. Beware of quitting Chiu-walden too 
soon for the soft, relaxing air of the plain. Your doctor, 
whom I have just seen, declares that if you hasten your re- 
turn, he will not answer for the consequences. Antoinette, 

I am sure, will join her entreaties to ours. Don’t let us see 
you for another three weeks ! 

‘‘ Follow my prescription, dear professor, and all will be 
well. Camille shall go away; he is becoming insufferable. 
He has had the presumption to maintain that I am a good, 
credulous sort of woman. That was his speech, and it was 


104 


SAMtiEiL BROHL AND BaRTNER. 


not polite. There are no nephews left and respect is 
obsolete.” 

Ten days later, M. Moriaz received a fourth and last 
letter at Churwalden : 

“ September 3rd. 

“ My dear Friend, — Count Larinski is decidedly a 
delightful man, and I shall never forgive myself for having 
misjudged him. Until the day before yesterday, I had no 
idea of the extent of his merits and virtues. His mind is a 
country in which one makes discovery after discovery, and 
every step reveals a fresh prospect. Between ourselves, 
Antoinette is dreaming ; what can have made her fancy this 
man in love with her? Such men as Count Larinski are 
enthusiastic artists, sensible and tender-hearted, with poetic 
imaginations ; they like everything and love nothing, admir- 
ing a pretty woman as they admire a pretty flower, a 
humming-bird, or a picture by Titian. Did I tell you that 
the other day, in walking round the park with me, he was 
quite overcome by my purple beech, which is certainly a 
wonder ! He was in an ecstasy, I really think the tears 
came into his eyes. I might have suspected him of falling 
in love with my beech, yet he did not ask if he might marry 
it. 

“Moreover, if he were over head and ears in love with 
your daughter, never fear, he won’t marry her, and for this 
reason — Have patienpe, I must go back a little. 

“ Abbe Miollens came to see me yesterday afternoon, 
quite distressed at M. Larinski’s not having relished his pro- 
position. 

“ ‘ There is no great harm,’ said I, ‘ let him return to 
Vienna, where he has his friends, he will be happier there.’ 

“ ‘ The harm in my eyes,’ replied he, ‘ is, that he will be 
lost to us for ever. Vienna is such a long way off! If he 
had been a. professor in London, only ten hours from Paris, 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


105 


he might have crossed the Channel occasionally to come and 
play with me.’ 

“ You will understand that I was but slightly affected by 
this reasoning ; whatever it may cost me, I shall make the 
effort and resign myself to losing M. Larinski for ever ; but 
the abb6 is obstinate. ‘ I am afraid,’ observed he, ‘ that the 
Austrians pay their archive keepers but poorly ; the English 

are more liberal in their ideas, and Lord C had given 

me carte blanche,’* 

“ ‘ Oh,’ said I, ‘ that is a difficult point to touch upon. 
As soon as the question of bread and cheese is approached, 
the gentleman draws in his horns as if his dignity were at 
stake.’ 

‘ I can credit that,’ he replied, ‘ there is a marvellous 
nobility of feeling at the base of his character ; he is not 
proud, but the embodiment of pride.’ 

‘‘The abbe is passionately fond of Horace, he declares 
that to this great poet he owes the profound knowledge of 
men which distinguishes him. He quoted to me a Latin 
verse which he was kind enough to translate, meaning that 
there are some horses which wince and prance when they are 
touched in a delicate part. ‘ Poles are like them,’ said he. 

“As we were talking, in walked M. Larinski, and I kept 
both gentlemen to dinner. In the evening they gave me 
another concert. Why was not Antoinette there ? I could 
have fancied myself at the Conservatoire ; then we chatted, 
and the abb6, who never relinquishes an idea, said bluntly 
to the count : — 

“‘My dear count, have you thought it over? If you 
were to go to London, we might hope to see you frequently, 
and then the salary — Since the terrible word has- escaped 
me, let me say that I would do my best to obtain for you an 
emolument worthy of your merits, your scientific attainments, 
your character and position — ’ 


106 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


“ He was unable to finish his speech ; the count winced 
like Horace^s horse, and cried : ‘ Oh, Mozart, what a dis- 
agreeable topic ! ^ 

“ Then he added gravely ; * Monsieur 1* abb6, you are 
goodness itself ; but the situation I have had offered me at 
Vienna seems more suited to my capacities ; I am afraid I 
should make an abominable professor, and even if the 
salary were twice as much, it would be hardly a reason to 
make me decide.’ 

“ The abb6 insisted, he always does insist : ‘ In the 
present age,’ said he, ‘ more than any other, it is impossible 
to live on air.’ 

“ ‘ I have lived on it sometimes,’ replied the count gaily, 
‘ and it did me no harm. My health is proof against hard- 
ships. You would hardly believe the extent to which I carry 
my indifference in everything relating to money matters. 
In me it is not a virtue, but an infirmity ; I am the true 
child of my country and my father. I feel incapable of 
thinking of the future and practising the French virtue of 
economy. When my purse is full, I empty it, and then 
doom myself to privations, or, rather, enjoy them. There 
seems to me to be no real pleasure without a slight touch of 
pain. Besides, I am fond of contrasts. Now and then I 
fancy myself a millionaire, I act the nabob and give the 
rein to my fancies ; next day I lie on the bare floor, live 
on toast and water, and feel perfectly happy. In short, 
I am a madman once a year and a philosopher all the rest 
of it.’ 

**^The worst of it is,’ rejoined the abbe, ‘that sometimes 
one day’s madness is enough to compromise a philosopher’s 
future for ever.’ 

Oh, don’t be uneasy,’ he replied, ‘ my extravagances are 
never very fatal. There was method in Hamlet’s madness, 
and there is always a gleam of reason in mine.’ 


SAMUBL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


107 


“ While making this declaration of his principles, he had 
sat down again to the piano and was running his fingers over 
the keys. Suddenly he struck up a German song which I 
got the Abb4 Miollens to translate to me. It is of no great 
length; the hero of this song is an amorous pine-tree, planted 
on the summit of a barren mountain in the north ; it is 
solitary and sad, the snow and ice have wrapped it in a 
white mantle, and it spends its weary hours in dreaming 
of a palm-tree which it appears it once met during its 
travels. 

“M. Larinski sang his little melody with such pathetic 
emphasis that the good abb6 was moved, and I grew anxious. 
If you once feel an anxiety, it keeps recurring. I asked my- 
self whether he might not have met his palm-tree in the 
Engadine, and said to him rather coldly : ‘ Is the day of 
your departure definitely fixed? Will not you favour us 
with a reprieve ? ' 

“ He ran over a pearly chromatic scale and replied : 
‘ Alas, madame, I am only awaiting a letter which must 
arrive soon : I shall be obliged, though reluctantly, to take 
my leave before the end of another week.^ 

‘‘ ‘ You shall not leave,’ said the Abb4 Miollens, ‘ without 
letting us hear the poem of the pine-tree again. You re- 
peated it with so much feeling that I felt as if you were re- 
lating an episode in your own history. Do you ever dream 
of a palm-tree, my dear count ? ’ 

“His reply was : ‘ I have no longer the right to dream, 
I am no longer free.’ 

“The abbe started and exclaimed naively; ‘What, are 
you wedded T 

“ ‘ I thought I had told you,’ he replied with a melancholy 
smile, and began at once to talk about a ballet which he had 
seen the night before at the opera, and with which he was 
but half satisfied. 


108 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


“ You will easily believe that when he uttered these 
words, ‘ I thought I had told you,’ I was ready to throw my- 
self on his neck. I was so happy that I felt afraid lest he 
should read in my eyes my joy, my surprise, and my intense 
gratitude. I think him very keen, and fancy that he has 
long since guessed the secret thoughts and suspicions with 
which he inspired me. If he has been making a little fun 
of me, I forgive him ; a well-bred man, when unjustly sus- 
pected, has a right to revenge himself by a touch of irony. 
I had the horses put to my carriage to take him back to the 
railway, and the abb4 and I went with him to the station. 
We cannot show too much attention to deserving people 
whom fortune has illtreated. 

‘‘Well, what do you say now, my dear friend ? Was 1 
wrong in declaring M. Larinski to be a delightful man ^ He 
is going away in a week, and is married ; unhappily married, 
I fear, for his smile was a sad one. You will find that he 
has married out of gratitude some one beneath him, who 
has nursed him through an illness, one of those women 
whom it is impossible to introduce into society ; it would be 
just like him. Fortunately, the law makes no distinction 
between equal and unequal matches, and I have no doubt 
that his is legal. 

“ The alarm was a sharp one. Shall I light up my lamps '? 
I am tempted to illuminate Cormeilles and Maisons-Laffitte. 
How shall you set to work to disabuse our dreamer? Were 
I you, I should take certain precautions. Be prudent, go 
to work gently, and for the future take my advice and climb 
no more rocks ; you see what might be the end of it. 

“ Once more, don’t be in a hurry to return. The heat 
here has been oppressive for the last few days, we are 
literally stifling. You ought to spend another fortnight 
in the pine-tree shades and four thousand feet above the 
level of the sea. 


SAMUiJL BROHL AND PARTNER. lOS 

“Farewell, my dear professor; I am interrupted while 
writing by the incredulous, sceptical, suspicious, absurd, 
ridiculous CamiHe, who commends himself respectfully to 
your indulgent kindness/' 


CHAPTER VI. 

On reading Madame de Lorcy's fourth letter, M. Moriaz felt 
a sense of satisfaction and deliverance which he could not dis- 
guise. His daughter had gone out to make a call in the neigh- 
bourhood, and he was alone with Mademoiselle Moiseney, who 
said : “ Have you had good news, sir?” 

“Excellent,” he replied, and then recovering himself, 
added : “ Excellent or deplorable or vexatious, according as 
you may think.” 

After finishing his letter and putting it back into the 
envelope, he brooded for some minutes, asking himself 
how he should break this excellent news. His daughter 
had been an enigma to him for the last three weeks. She 
had not once mentioned Count Larinski’s name. She liked 
Churwalden as well as St. Moritz, and seemed cheerful, 
calm, and perfectly happy. Had she quieted down ? Had 
she changed her mind ? M. Moriaz could not tell, but 
he knew that still waters run deep, and that a young 
girl's mind is unfathomable. Forewarned is forearmed, 
and he was now on his guard against everything. “If 
I speak to her,” thought he, “ T shall not be able to hide my 
joy, and perhaps she may go into hysterics.” He had 
a horror of hysterics ; so he resolved to have recourse to 
Mademoiselle Moiseney, and said abruptly : 

“ I suppose, mademoiselle, you know what is going on, 
Antoinette takes you into her confidence,” 


no 


SAMtEL BROHL AND PARTNBIt. 


She opened her eyes, and was about to reply that she knew 
nothing ; but she recovered herself, and drawing up her 
little sharp head above her thin shoulders, said proudly : 
“ Do you imagine, sir, that Antoinette can have any secrets 
from me?’' 

‘‘ Certainly not !” was his rejoinder. “ And do you approve 
and encourage her feelings towards M. Larinski.” 

Mademoiselle Moiseney gave a great start ; she had not 
the slightest idea that Count Larinski’s presence had had the 
least eifect on Mademoiselle Moriaz, but as her mind could 
travel quickly on occasion, she grasped in one moment all 
the consequences of this prodigious event. A cloud swam 
before her eyes; in this cloud she saw all kinds of things both 
to please and displease her ; she sat with her mouth open, 
endeavouring to unravel the skein. She said to herself : “ It 
is a delusion, it is not so, it can’t be.” But then she said : 
“ Mademoiselle Moriaz can no more err than the queen of 
England ; since she wishes it, she must be justified in 
wishing it.” 

Mademoiselle Moiseney finally regained her self-possession, 
and a gracious smile played on her lips as she exclaimed : 

He has no fortune, but he has a grand name. The 
Countess Larinski ! How well it sounds !” 

‘‘ Perfect from a musical point of view, I allow,” replied 
M. Moriaz. “ Unfortunately there are other things beside 
music in the world.” 

She did not hear him, but absorbed in her own ideas, 
without taking time to draw breath, continued with extra- 
ordinary volubility : “ You will laugh at me, but whether you 
believe me or not, I have long foreseen this marriage. I 
have presentiments which never mislead me, and I felt sure 
it would end in this. What a handsome couple ! Cannot 
you fancy them driving in an open carriage in the Bois or 
entering a box at the Opera ? They will create a sensation, 


SAMUEL BliOHL PAfeTiTMl. 


Ill 


And pray take notice, that, boasting apart, I have had a 
hand in it. The very first time I saw Count Larinski, at the 
table d’hote at Bergiin, you know, I recognised at once that 
he was a remarkable man ” 

“ By the way in which he ate his trout,” put in M. Moriaz ; 

it does great credit to your insight.” 

‘‘ Only ask Antoinette,” she rejoined, ‘‘ whether I did not 
praise the handsome stranger that very night. She would 
insist that his head was buried between his shoulders ; can 
you believe it, that man’s head buried between his shoulders ? 
Ah, I felt sure how it would end 1 Do you wish to test my 
insight? Shall I tell you who the letter you have just 
received, which contains such excellent news, comes from ? It 
is from the count, he has made his declaration at last. I 
guessed it at once. Ah, sir, I sympathise with your joy. 
This is just the son-in-law I dreamed of for you. A superior 
man, but one with his heart on his sleeve, and so good- 
natured and open.” 

Po you really think him as open as the daylight?” asked 
M. Moriaz, fanning himself with his letter. 

“ He told us the story of his life,” answered she, in a 
dogmatic tone. 

‘‘ A beautiful story. I only regret that he omitted one 
detail likely to- have interested us.” 

A sad detail ?” askd she, fixing on him her gooseberry- 
coloured eyes. 

‘‘ On the contrary, a circumstance which does him great 
honour, and disposes me in his favour. You may be sure, 
my dear lady, that I should be charmed to receive a son- 
in-law at your hands, and to give my daughter to a man 
whose genius and noble sentiments you divined merely 
from seeing him eat. Unfortunately, I am afraid this 
maiTiage will not take place, there is one trifling obstacle in 
the way.” 


112 


SAMtDL fiROdL AND I^ARfNM. 


« What is that 

“ Count Larinski forgot to tell us that he was already 
married.’^ 

Mademoiselle Moiseney gave a cry of distress. M. Moriaz 
handed her Madame de Lorcy’s letter ; she read it and felt 
overwhelmed: a pitiless finger had burst the iridescent bubble 
which she had just blown, and saw glistening at the end of 
her pipe. 

“ Don’t give way to despair,” said M. Moriaz, “ be brave, 
follow my example and imitate my resignation; but pray how 
do you think Antoinette will take it ?” 

“ It will be a terrible blow to her,” replied Mademoiselle 
Moiseney ; “ she was so fond of him !” 

“ How do you know, since she did not think it expedient to 
tell you so T 

“ I am sure of it. Poor dear Antoinette I We must 
break it to her as gently as possible, and I feel that only 
myself ” 

“ I feel so too,” put in M. Moriaz hastily, “ you only can 
operate on our patient without making her suffer. You are 
so skilful, your hand is so light ! Manage it discreetly, 
mademoiselle, I entrust it to you.” 

So saying, he seized his hat and stick and hurried out, 
rather anxious as to the result, but feeling too happy and 
thankful to be a good consoler himself. 

Mademoiselle Moriaz soon came in from her walk, humming 
an air, with a bright complexion, happy face, and beaming eyes, 
and holding a bunch of heather in her hand. Mademoiselle 
Moiseney went to meet her with a lugubrious face, her 
head bent down, and her eyes swimming with tears. An- 
toinette was struck by the consternation depicted on her 
countenance. 

“Why, whatever is the matter, my dear Jeanne?” she said, 
‘‘you look as if you had been at a funeral/’ 


SAMUEL BKOHL AND PARTNER. 


113 


** Alas !” sighed Mademoiselle Moiseney, “ I have some sad 
news for you.” 

“ What ! Can they have written word from Cormeilles 
that your parrot is dead V 

“ Be sensible, my dear child, and be strong, summon up all 
your courage.” 

‘‘ For heaven^s sake, what is it ? ” 

“ Why cannot I spare you this grief ! — Your father has 
just had a letter from Madame de Lorcy.” 

Antoinette paid more attention and breathed more quickly. 
“ And what was so terrible and heartrending in the letter 1 ” 
she asked with a forced smile. 

“ It is well that I am here,” continued Mademoiselle 
Moiseney. “ You know that your joys and sorrows are mine. 
Every consolation that can be offered by the most tender 
sympathy — ” 

My dear Jeanne, for heaven’s sake, explain yourself first 
and console me afterwards.” 

“ You never told me, my child, I have a right to com- 
plain ; but I had guessed all. I can read your heart. I 
was sure that you loved him.” 

‘‘ Of whom are you speaking? ” replied Antoinette, as the 
colour mounted to her face. 

“Of a most bewitching 'man, who, through inconceivable 
heedlessness or guilty design, neglected to inform us that he 
was married.” And with these words. Mademoiselle Moiseney 
stretched out both arms to receive Mademoiselle Moriaz, 
expecting to see her faint. 

But Mademoiselle Moriaz did not faint. The sudden flush 
had vanished and left her pale ; but she remained standing, 
with her head proudly erect, and murmured : “ What, is M. 
Larinski married? — I sincerely congratulate the Countess 
Larinski.” 

Then she began to arrange the flowers she had just 

H 


114 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


brought in in a vase. Mademoiselle Moiseney was quite 
taken aback by her calmness, she gazed at her in stupefaction 
and suddenly cried : “ Thank Heaven, you did not care for 
him! Your father was mistaken, he often is mistaken; he 
gets strange ideas into his head sometimes, and had per- 
suaded himself that it would be a terrible blow to you, but he 
little knows you. Well ! M. Larinski was certainly not 
amiss, and I donT deny his merits ; but I always felt rather 
mistrustful of Kim, his manner was not quite straightforward, 
I suspected him of concealing something. It seems that he 
has made a mesalliance which he does not care to speak of. 
It is sad that a man with such good manners should have 
low tastes and loose morals. He ought to have told us all ; 
it was neither honest nor delicate.” 

You are dreaming, dear,” replied Antoinette. ‘‘ By 
what law of God or man was M. Larinski bound to tell us 
everything ? Do you look upon yoimself as his confessor, 
and expect him to own his errors to us as if before the 
judgment-seat ? ” So saying, she took off her hat and 
mantle, and seated herself near the window, opening a book 
and proceeding to read most diligently. 

“Thank Heaven, she did not care for him,” thought 
Mademoiselle Moiseney, not perceiving that Mademoiselle 
Moriaz was imconsciously turning over two or three leaves 
at a time. 

Absorbed as she was in her book, Antoinette recognised 
her father’s step, as he came up the stairs on his way to his 
room. She hastened towards him. He was glad to notice 
that her colour had not flown and her eyes were not red, but 
he felt less satisfied when she said in a clear, calm voice : 
“ Will you be so good as to show me the letter you have had 
from Madame de Lorcy ? ” 

“ For what purpose 1 ” was his reply. “ I know it by 
heart and will repeat it to you.” 


SAMUEL BBOHL AND PARTNER. 


115 


“Then it is a letter not fit to be shown?” 

“ Bj no means ; but when I say that I am ready to tell 
you its contents — ” 

“ I would rather read it myself.” 

“ After all, you have a right to see it ; here it is, but pray 
do not brood over any unlucky expression — 

“ Madame de Lorcy always manages to hit on the right 
word to express her meaning,” she replied. 

As soon as Antoinette had glanced rapidly over Madame de 
Lorcy^s two small closely written sheets, she looked up with 
a smile. “ Confess,” she resumed, “ that you have found 
Madame de Lorcy a very useful and zealous ally ; acknow- 
ledge that she has worked hard and that you are greatly 
indebted to her for taking such pains to rid you of this 
well-bred, this delightful man, her very words, you re- 
member.” 

M. Moriaz remonstrated: “What,” said he, “do you 
imagine there has been any trick ? Can you possibly suspect 
me of hatching some dark plot with Madame de Lorcy ? Do 
you think me capable of treachery ?” 

“ Heaven forbid ! I only accuse you of being too triumph- 
ant and unable to conceal it.” 

“ Is that a crime ? ” 

“ Perhaps rather an indiscretion.” 

“ I swear, my dear child, that your happiness is my only 
consideration, and as to Madame de Lorcy, since M. Langis 
has given up all thoughts of you, what interest, what reason 
could she have — ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” broke in Antoinette ; “ but her pre- 
judices stand for reasons.” 

“ Then you refuse to believe that Count Larinski is 
married ? ” 

“ I believe it, but don’t feel sure of it, and I should like tcf 
make certain. Have I not been open throughout ? have I 


116 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


not yielded readily to your wishes ? I consented to abide by 
Madame de Lorcy’s sentence. She has deigned to be merci- 
ful to the defendant, she has owned M. Larinski to be a 
perfectly honourable, and even a delightful man; but she 
has made out, with only a few days’ interval, first that he is 
not in love with me, and then that he has deceived me 
by allowing me to believe him still free. I wish to satisfy 
myself and to feel convinced that I am not being trifled 
with.” 

“ And you decide — ** 

“ I decide that with your leave we will start for Cormeilles 
to-morrow morning.” 

This decision was not at all acceptable to M. Moriaz, and 
his face lengthened perceptibly. 

“What are you afraid of? ” she said. “You know that I have 
some strength of character, and, whatever Madame de Lorcy 
may say, you know that I am not without sense. When my 
mistake is proved, I will bury my romance for ever, and 
promise you never to wear mourning for it.” 

“Well then,” said he, “ I believe in your good sense and 
will trust your discretion, we will start for Cormeilles 
to-morrow.” 

Four days later, Madame de Lorcy was walking in one of 
the avenues of her park. There she was joined by M. 
Langis, to whom she said gaily : 

“ Still grave and melancholy, my dear Camille ! When 
will you doff those pensive looks ? I can’t understand you. 
I do all I can to please you, and arrange matters to your 
liking, but nothing makes you smile. You remind me of La 
Fontaine’s hare : — ‘ The animal is sad^ consumed with fear. ^ ” 

“ Fear and hatred, madame,” he replied. “ I hate this 
man, he is uubearable, and I shall never come to Maisons 
again if there is any danger of meeting him. Has he taken 
his final leave 1 ” 


BAMUEL BrOHL AND BaRT^TeB. 11? 

Not yet, have a little patience, we have only a few 
minutes to w^ait. What harm can this man do you now? 
The lion’s claws are clipped, nay, he has actually been so 
obliging as to muzzle himself. Is a disarmed enemy who 
yields at discretion to be pursued by hatred ? ” 

‘‘ Very well, madame ; if he is not gone in three days I - 
shall return to my first idea, it was a good one.” 

“ Will you run him through ?” 

“ With the utmost pleasure.” 

“ For the love of the thing?” 

“I am not bloodthirsty, but I should feel a singular 
pleasure in ripping up the skin of this mysterious per- 
sonage.” 

Madame de Lorcy shrugged her shoulders. “ What 
makes you call him mysterious ? Once more, my dear boy, 
you are perfectly unreasonable. You ought to adore M. 
Larinski, you are under the greatest obligations to him. 
He was the first to succeed in touching the heart of our in- 
difierent darling, he has broken the charm; she was the 
Sleeping Beauty, he has awakened her, and, thank Heaven, 
cannot marry her. I can see her now at Churwalden, a prey 
to intense ennui, weeping over her illusions, and furious at 
having been deceived. Cannot you guess what advantage 
may be taken of a woman’s anger ? ” 

‘‘You know whether I love her,” returned M. Langis, 
“yet I have no wish to owe anything to her sorrows.” 

“ You are a perfect child, put yourself under guidance. 
Now is the time to make your declaration. In a few days, 
start for ChurAvalden, and say to this indignant woman, 1 
dissembled, I love you. In short, tell her all the story of 
your love, and exhaust your store of hyperbole on the occa- 
sion, if you like. I will guarantee you a hearing, she will 
say to herself, I wanted an opportunity of avenging myself^ 
and here it is,” 


118 SASitJEL EilOflL AND JPAtltNEE. 

“ 1 would gladly believe you, madame,” he rejoined, “ but 
are you sure that Mademoiselle Moriaz is still at Chur- 
walden?” And pointing to the end of the avenue, he 
directed her attention to a pretty nut-brown dress sweeping 
along the gravel towards them. 

“ Why, really, I believe it is she,” cried Madame de 
Lorcy. M. Moriaz is the clumsiest man ; but there is no 
great harm done after all.” vrf 

Mademoiselle Moriaz had reached Cormeilles the evening 
before. After resting indifferently at the end of her fatigu- 
ing journey, she had ordered the horses to be put to in 
order that she might pay her respects at once to her god- 
mother, who could not but be touched by this attention on 
her part. 

Madame de Lorcy ran to meet Antoinette and kissed her 
again and again, saying : “So here you are back again at 
last, my darling ! How delighted I am to see you. What 
a time you have been away, I began to fear you would take 
root in the Grisons. Is it such a fascinating country ? I 
believe that it was all your father’s selfishness, and that 
he sacrificed you to his own convenience by prolonging his 
course of baths, but since you are here, I will forgive him. 
Your poor prot4g6s are raising a hue and cry after you. 
Who was it that asked after you the other day ? Oh, Made- 
moiselle Galet, whose quarterly allowance I paid, according 
to your directions. How you spoil her ! I found a bouquet 
fit for a duchess on her table, she maintained that you had 
sent it all that way, and I had the greatest difficulty to 
make her understand that double camellias are not to be 
gathered on the Roseg glacier. Strew Mademoiselle Galet’s 
path and garret with flowers if you will, but it is madness to 
throw a bushel of double camellias at her head, and I have 
serious thoughts of putting you into an asylum. Never 
mind, however, I am glad to see you back. Your com- 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


119 


plexion is certainly splendid ; don’t you think she looks well, 
Camille r’ 

Mademoiselle Moriaz received Madame de Lorcy’s em- 
braces coldly, but favoured M. Langis with a gracious smile, 
and pressed his hand affectionately. Madame de Lorry 
brought them into the drawing-room, where they talked on 
indifferent subjects. Antoinette waited for M. Langis to 
depart before introducing the subject she was anxious to 
investigate. At the end of twenty minutes, he rose, but sat 
down again immediately. A door had just opened, and 
Count Abel Larinski had entered. 

At the sight of Samuel Brohl, both women changed 
colour ; the one turned red with the effort she had to make 
to disguise her vexation, the other grew pale with emotion. 
Samuel Brohl crossed the room deliberately, without appear- 
ing to notice who was with MaAame de Lorcy, then suddenly 
started as if he had received an electric shock, and looked 
disturbed and out of countenance. Was he as much aston- 
ished as he seemed ? The hill of Sannois had long been his 
favourite walk, and he never climbed it without going as far 
as a spot from which he could see the front of a house whose 
shutters had been completely closed for the last two njonths. 
He might chance to have seen them open the evening 
before. Induction is a scientific process familiar to such 
men as Samuel Brohl. 

He had a strong will and great self-control. He soon 
recovered himself and raised his head with the air of a man 
ready to face any danger. After paying his respects to 
Madame de Lorcy, he went up to Antoinette and inquired 
after her health in a grave, and almost ceremonious voice. 

“ Your visit distresses me, my dear count,” said Madame 
de Lorcy ; “ I fear it is your last. Are you come to bid me 
goodbye ? ” 

“ Alas, madame, yes,” he replied, ‘‘ The letter I was ox* 


120 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


pecting has not yet arrived ; but this delay will not alter 
my plans, and in three days I shall have quitted Paris.’^ 

^‘Without regret, with no desire to return]” asked 
Madame de Lorcy. 

‘‘ I shall regret nothing but Maisons and my kind recep- 
tion there. Paris is too large, it makes little folk like 
myself feel their insignificance too much ; without being 
over proud, no one likes to become a mere atom. Vienna 
suits me better, I feel more at my ease there, it is a 
city after my own heart. Birds should not change their 
nests.” 

With this the Count began to describe and praise the 
Prater with its five avenues, Sch^mbrunn, with its botanic 
garden and Gloriette, St. Stephen’s, and the limpid waters of 
the Danube, sometimes addressing Antoinette, who listened 
in silence, and sometimes Madame de Lorcy, whose eyes, 
directed occasionally towards M. Langis, seemed to be say- 
ing : “Was I not right? Confess that there was no reason 
for your apprehensions ? You hear him, he has but half an 
hour to spend with her, and is describing the Prater. Do 
you still thftik of running him through ? Pray say one 
word of courtesy to him. It is not he, but you, who are 
mysterious ; lay aside your sinister air. How long is this 
taciturn reverie of yours to last ? You make one laugh, you 
are playing the fool. You look like a sphinx in the desert 
contemplating a serpent, and taking a harmless snake for a 
viper.” M. Langis understood what she meant, but main- 
tained his sinister air. 

After upholding Vienna and its environs, Samuel Brohl 
praised the Viennese and their easy light-hearted disposition. 
He told some humorous anecdotes. True, there was some- 
thing rather forced and feverish about his gaiety, still he 
was gay. Madame de Lorcy responded, Mademoiselle Moriaz 
opptinued silent ; she played with the guipure on her Marie^ 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 121 

Antoinette fichu, and keeping her eyes fixed on it, seemed 
to be counting the meshes. 

Samuel Brohl stopped short in the middle of a sentence 
and rose abruptly. He turned to Antoinette, begging her, 
in a low ^oice, to tell M. Moriaz how much he regretted that 
his approaching departure would deprive him of the honour 
and pleasure of calling on him at Cormeilles, then shaking 
hands with Madame de Lorcy, he thanked her for the happy 
moments he had spent in her society and asked her to give 
his kind remembrances to the Abbe Miollens. 

‘‘We shall see you again, my dear count,” said she in a 
clear voice, dwelling on her words, “ and I hope that before 
long we shall make the Countess Larinski’s acquaintance.” 

He looked at her in amazement and murmured : “ I lost 
my fiiother ten years ago.” 

Then, without giving Madame de Lorcy time to explain 
herself further, he moved quickly towards the door, followed 
by three pairs of speaking eyes, each bearing a different 
message. The room was large, and the angel of silence 
hovered over it during the thirty seconds it took him to 
cross it. 

He vas going out, when fate inspired him with an unlucky 
thought. He could not resist the longing to take one last 
look at Mademoiselle Moriaz, and engrave her adored image 
on his memory for ever. He turned, and their eyes met. 
He paid dearly for this weakness. The constraint he had 
put himself under for the last hour appeared to have ex- 
hausted his strength. His heart seemed to refuse to beat, 
his limbs grew rigid and refused to obey him, his teeth set, 
his pupils dilated, and his head swam. He sank backwards 
on the inlaid floor, falling as heavily as a lump of lead, and 
lay there unconscious. 

Mademoiselle Moriaz could not suppress a scream, and 
was ready to faint. Madame de Lorcy grasped her round 


m 


SAMtJBIL BROHL AND PARTNER, 


the waist and dragged her into the adjoining room, aftfer 
throwing M. Langis a bottle of salts, with the words : “ Look 
after Count Larinski.” 

The first thing that M. Langis did was to put the bottle 
on a table ; then he went up to Samuel Brohl, who still in 
his swoon and unconscious, looked dead or nearly so. He 
gazed at him for a moment and bent over him ; then fold- 
ing his arms and shrugging his shoulders, said : Come, get 
up, ir. Mademoiselle Moriaz is not in the room.” 

Samuel Brohl did not stir. “ You did not hear me,” con- 
tinued Camille. “ You are a splendid fellow, count, really 
handsome, your attitude is irreproachable, and any one 
might take you for a corpse. Your fall was admirable, I 
vow that I never saw any one faint more naturally at the 
theatre, but don’t trouble yourself to prolong the effort. 
Mademoiselle Moriaz is not here, I repeat.” 

Samuel Brohl remained rigid and motionless. 

“ Perhaps you wish to test the strength of my muscles,” 
continued Camille, “you shall have that satisfaction.” So 
saying, he laid hold of the prostrate man and exerted all his 
strength to raise him and place him on a couch, where he 
lay at full length. 

Camille examined him again and resumed ; “ How long is 
this tragi-comedy to last? Cannot I find some means of 
awaking you ? Let me see, what shall I say ? Listen, sir. 
I love the woman you pretend to love with my whole heart. 
Won’t that do? Sir, you are a Polish adventurer, and I be- 
stow on your social talents all the admiration which I lack 
for your character. Won’t even that do? Well, in your 
present state I cannot lift a finger against you, but pray 
consider the blow as received.” 

He fancied that the body moved slightly, and exclaimed : 
“ Thank heaven, you have given signs of life, my insult 
has found its way to your heart. I shall be delighted to 


SAMtJBL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


123 


give you satisfaction, you may command me. The day, 
place, and weapon I leave entirely to your choice. And 
stay, you may rely absolutely on my discretion; I swear 
that no one shall learn from me that your swoons have ears 
and resent insults. This is my address, sir.” 

And drawing a card from his pocket, Camille attempted 
to slip it into the cold, drooping hand, from which it slipped. 
“ What obstinacy ! ” said he. ‘‘ As you choose, sir, I have 
exhausted my eloquence.” 

He turned his back on Samuel Brohl, sat down in an easy- 
chair, took up a newspaper and opened it. At this moment 
the door again opened, and Madame de Lorcy re appeared. 

“What in the world are you doing there, Camille?” 
cried she. 

“ You see, madame,” replied he, “ I am waiting till this 
grand actor has finished his part.” 

He had not observed that Mademoiselle Moriaz had also 
re-entered the room. She gave him an angry, indignant, 
threatening glance, in which he read his condemnation. He 
endeavoured to find some words of explanation or excuse to 
disarm her wrath, but his voice failed him, he bowed humbly, 
took up his hat and left the room. 

Madame de Lorcy, in great agitation, opened a window, 
and threw some water on Samuel Brohrs face, rubbing his 
temples with an energy amounting to roughness, and making 
him inhale some strong salts. 

“ Go, my dear, do,” said she to Antoinette ; this is not the 
place for you.” 

Antoinette did not go ; with a pained face and quivering 
lips, she took a seat at some distance from the sofa. 

At length Madame de Lorcy’s energetic measures produced 
their effect. Samuel Brohl was not dead ; his arms stirred, 
his legs relaxed, and in a few moments he opened his eyes 
and then his mouth ; he sat up and stammered out ; 


124 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PAIITNER. 


“Where am I — what has happened? — Ah, she was here just 
now ! ” 

Madame de Lorcy laid her hand on his lips and bending 
down to his ear, said in a severe, imperious voice : “ She is 
here still.” 

She could not manage to make him understand. People 
recover but gradually from such a swoon as his. Samuel 
Brohl felt faint again, his eyes re-closed, and he buried his 
face in his hands. After keeping silence for some minutes, 
he said in a stifled voice : “ Pray forgive me, madame, I am 
ashamed of myself ; my courage failed, my strength betrayed 
me. I love her madly, and had vowed never to see her again. 
I am going away on purpose to avoid her.” 

He had raised his head and saw Antoinette, but stared at 
her blankly as if he did not know her. At length he re- 
cognised her, made a gesture of alarm, rose hastily, and fled 
from the room. 

Mademoiselle Moriaz went up to Madame de Lorcy and 
said : “Well ! what do you think?” 

“ I think, my dear,” replied she, “ that Madame do Lorcy 
is a fool, and Count Larinski a very clever man.” 

Antoinette regarded her with a bitter smile, and said, with 
a light touch on her arm : 

“Allow, madame, that if he had a hundred thousand 
francs a-year, you would not think of doubting his sincerity.” 

Madame de Lorcy made no reply ; she could not contra- 
dict her, and was vexed at being both right and wrong. 
Such mischances occasionally befall women of the world. 


CHAPTER VIL 


On entering her carriage to return to Cormeilles, Made- 
moiselle Moriaz was troubled by an agitation which did not 
subside throughout the drive. She felt a tender passionate 
sentiment for the man who had fainted on taking leave of 
her, anger against the foolish prejudices and paltry strata- 
gems of people of the world, joy at having defeated a plot 
against her happiness, and pride in her own clear perceptions, 
because she had not been deceived in her choice, because 
the man she loved was worthy of her affection. For several 
days she had been suffering cruelly from mental anxiety and 
anguish ; again and again she had said to herself : ‘‘ Perhaps 
they are right.” 

A woman’s heart believes itself at the mercy of an error, 
and is tortured by any doubts of itself and its clearness of 
perception. If its divinity be proved an idol and what it 
adored worthy of contempt, it feels ready to die, and 
imagines that a spring in the vast machinery of the universe 
is broken, that heaven and earth are about to melt away, 
and yet a feminine error is attended by no such serious con- 
sequences. The sun goes on shining, and the earth con- 
tinues to revolve. The machinery of the universe would be 
liable to many an accident, were it thrown out of gear when- 
ever a woman makes a mistake. 

‘‘ I was right, they could not understand him,” thought 
Mademoiselle Moriaz as she crossed the Seine, and contem- 
plated joyfully tbe soft blixe sky^ tho quiet waters, the green 


126 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


banks of the stream, and a long row of poplars which seemed 
to enjoy seeing it flow. She felt as if everj^thing were going 
on right, as if order reigned everywhere, the great Engineer 
was at his post, the world was in good hands, and its tra- 
vellers need fear no accident. 

When she reached Cormeilles, M. Moriaz was shut up in 
his laboratory, which he had been charmed to find in statu 
quo and good condition. A velvet cap on his head or over his 
ear, his sleeves rolled back, an unbleached calico apron 
round his neck and waist, and a featherbrush in his hand, 
he was carefully examining all his dear little apparatus, his 
furnaces, his long-necked and full-bellied matrasses, the 
body and neck of his retorts, his cucurbite, the head and worm 
of his stills. Receivers, tubes, pneumatic troughs, crucibles, 
mortars, blowpipes, capsules, lamps, he reviewed them all, to 
make sure that they had sustained no damage during his 
absence. He dusted his glass jars carefully, examined 
their labels, ascertained that his tubed receivers were not 
cracked, and the orifice of his gauges open. He was as happy 
as a king reviewing his troops and convincing himself that 
they looked well and would do honour to their master when 
they come under fire. 

Agreeably employed as he had been for two hours, M. 
Moriaz had not forgotten his daughter’s and M. Larinski’s 
existence. He knew that Antoinette had gone to Maisons- 
Laflitte to have an explanation with Madame de Lorcy, and 
this thought cast a shade over his happiness. Yet he hoped 
that this interview might further his wishes, and that the 
Polish star which gave him so much uneasiness was about to 
vanish for ever from his horizon. 

There was a knock at the door of his laboratory, he cried 
“ Come in ! ” and turning round, saw Antoinette standing 
on the threshold. He looked at her closely. Her eyes 
beamed and her whole face looked so bright and happy that 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


127 


his arms fell by his side, and a phial that he was holding 
slipped from his hand. 

“ What a naughty girl this is to come breaking her father’s 
things !” she cried gaily. 

‘‘ There is no great harm done,” he replied, turning to 
sweep up the broken fragments of glass. It was one means 
of gaining time. He set about it so awkwardly that she 
took the brush from his hands ; This is the way to sweep,” 
said she. 

He gazed at her as she did it, saying to himself : This 
is just the reverse of the scene at Churwalden. I have the 
long face, and she cannot manage to conceal her joy. Such 
is the turn things take in this world 1 ” 

As soon as she had finished sweeping, she looked all round 
and exclaimed ; ‘‘ Here you are back in your paradise again, 
in the enchanted region where you taste such ineffable de- 
lights.” 

“Yes, I am happy here, tolerably happy,” he replied . 
modestly. 

“ You are fastidious ! why, your laboratory is simply 
charming.” 

“Yes, it is convenient, but I was just thinking that there 
is one thing wanting in it. Do you know what my dream 
is ? To have a transparent still in this corner. Perhaps you 
may not know what this still is. It is a kind of alembic 
placed upon a retort and surmounted by a capital. You are 
about to ask what is a capital ; I shall answer, the wide part 
of a chimney which facilitates the escape of volatile prin- 
ciples and noxious vapours. See, here is a glass still. 
Although it has been fixed against a pier between Uvo 
windows, it is rather dark. Well almost every German 
chemist has in his laboratory a still for which the wall 
has been broken through and replaced by glass. That is 
the way to get light.” 


128 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


“ Who will reproach you with a want of imagin-ation 
You are a most romantic man and your romance is a trans- 
parent still. That is why you are so indulgent to the 
romances of others.” 

Antoinette dusted a chair with the feather-brush, en- 
sconced herself in it, and placing another seat opposite, said : 
“ Come and sit here, close to me, on this stool ; I will lay 
a cushion on it to make it softer. Come, I have something 
to say to you.” 

M. Moriaz approached submissively. ‘‘Must I take off 
my apron 'I ” he asked, 

“ Why ^ ” 

“ I foresee that our conversation will turn upon highly 
romantic matters. I wish to be in keeping.” 

“ Never mind, your apron is very becoming. All that I 
want and demand is your close attention.” 

She gave him a minute account of what had taken place 
at Madame de Lorcy’s. She began her story quietly, then 
grew animated and warmer by degrees, her eyes kindling. 
He listened with vexation, gazing at her with pleasurable 
pride and saying to himself : “ Bless me, how pretty she is, 
and what a lucky rascal that Pole must be ! ” 

When she had finished, she paused a few moments to 
hear his comments. But as he maintained a gloomy silence, 
she grew impatient : “Speak, I want to hear all you think,” 
said she. 

“ I think you are adorable.” 

“ Please do be serious.” 

“ Seriously,” he resumed, “ I am not sure that you are 
mistaken, nor can I prove you to J^e right ; I have my doubts 
still.” 

“ According to your views,” she exclaimed indignantly : 
“the only realities in the world are things that can be seen, 
touched, and handled, a retort and its contents ! Every- 


SAMUEL BEOHL AND PAETNEE. 


129 


thing beyond that is nothing or false. Your wretched 
retorts ! If I had my way, I would break every one of 
them.” 

The looks she cast around were so fierce and dangerous 
that M. Moriaz began to tremble for his laboratory. 

‘‘ I implore you,” said he, ‘‘ to have mercy on my poor re- 
torts, my honest stills, my innocent phials ! They have 
nothing to do with the matter. Is it their fault if the stories 
you tell me upset my mind so much that I cannot master 
them nor pronounce upon them ? ” 

“ Then you do not believe in anything extraordinary V 

‘‘ Extraordinary ! Whenever I meet anything extraordinary, 
I salute it,” replied he, taking oft’ his cap and making a low 
bow ; “ but I ask for its credentials.” 

‘‘ Ah, there you are again. I thought that the investiga- 
tion had been made.” 

“ It was not conclusive, since it failed to convince Madame 
de Lorcy.” 

‘‘ Oh, who could convince Madame de Lorcy ? Don’t you 
know what people of the world are, and how they detest 
whatever astonishes them, whatever is above their compre- 
hension, whatever they cannot weigh in their little scales, or 
measure with their narrow compasses ? ” 

Plague take it ! you are severe on society ; I always 
fancied you liked it.” 

“ I don’t know whether I like it or not ; it would certainly 
be hard for me to do without it, but I may judge it, and I 
sometimes tell myself that if Christ — are you listening to 
me ? — were to come among us again followed by His 
publicans and fishermen, and if Christ were to think of 
preaching the Sermon on the Mount on the Boulevard des 
Italiens — ” 

‘‘ Lay the scene at Montmartre at any rate, to make it 
seem more probable,” he interposed. Frankly, I don’t see 

I 


130 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


the connection between Christ and Count. Larinski, and then 
theology, excuse me, is not my forte. Keligion seems to me 
a good and useful thing, and T am glad to accept Christianity, 
minus its romantic side, with which I have hardly had time 
to trouble myself. You will allow at least that if there are 
genuine miracles, there are spurious ones also. How are we 
to distinguish between them ? ” 

‘‘ That is the province of the heart to decide,” said she. 

Oh, the infallibility of the heart ! ” exclaimed he. “No 
Council has ever yet voted that.” 

There was a pause, and then M. Moriaz resumed : “ Then, 
my dear, you are of opinion that M. Larinski is still free, 
and that Madame de Lorcy has been fibbing ?” 

“ Not at all ; if she had told a fib, she would not have 
betrayed herself so naively just now. I accuse her of making 
a mistake, or rather of wishing to make it. Do you know 
what you will have to do this very evening, after dinner ? 
You must get into the carriage and drive to — ” 

“ To Paris, Hue Mont-Thabor ! ” exclaimed he, starting up 
from his stool. “ Very well, I will put on my frock coat and 
go and say to Count Larinski : My dear sir, I have come to 
ask your hand for my daughter, who adores you ; evil 
tongues maintain that you are no longer free, but I don’t 
believe it, and besides that is a mere trifle. You shall draw 
it all up in writing; if I am left to myself, I shall never manage 
it ; wdien I am out of my professorial chair, I have such a 
difficulty in finding language ! 

“ Oh dear ! How sharp you are ! Who ever thought 
of such a thing ? The Abbe Miollens is a friend of ours ; 
he is a good man in whose testimony we may place con- 
fidence.” 

“Ah, that will do; why did not you explain yourself? 
Then you need not prepare a speech for me ; this is a good 
idea of yours, I am equal to this conversation. As soon as 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


131 


I have had dinner this evening, I will go and see the Abbe 
Miollens ; but it is agreed, is it not ? that if he confirms the 
sentence — ” 

I shall make no appeal, and I promise further to be more 
courageous than you expect ; I will put a good face on my 
trouble, and you shall find it impossible to suspect me of 
regretting my chimera. Let it be a bargain ; you promise, 
me, on the other hand that — if the Abb6 Miollens — ” 

“You know, as well as I do, that you are of age.” 

“ I know, as well as you do, that I shall never marry 
without your consent. I say now, as I did in the Engadine, 
This man or none.” 

“ Did not I warn you that when people once pronounce a 
formula, they go on repeating it ? ” 

“ Either this man or none, is my last word. Would you 
not rather have him ? Will you accept him ? ” 

“ I will submit.” 

“ Cheerfully 1 ” 

“ With resignation.” 

“ With happy resignation ? ” 

“ I will do my best, or rather, if he makes you happy, I 
will honour him all the days of my life ; but if he fails to do 
this, I shall say to you every night and morning, like Madame 
de Lorcy : You would not listen to me, you ought to have 
believed me.” 

“ It is a bargain, you are a kind father, and we are of one 
mind,” she replied, and taking both his hands, she clasped 
them in her own. 

He looked her full in the face, and then exclaimed in an 
angry tone of voice : “In the name of heaven, what makes 
you love this man ? ” 

She replied in a low voice : “ Because I love him ; that is 
my only reason, but it seems to me a good one.” 

“ Peremptory creature — let us go at once,” said he, rising. 


132 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


I fear lest my retorts should hear you and fall into as pro- 
longed a swoon as M. Larinski’s ; are such absurdities as these 
to be discussed in a chemist’s laboratory ? ” 

As soon as M. Moriaz rose from table, he prepared at once 
for going to Maisons, where the Abbe Miollens was spending 
the summer near Madame de Lorcy’s. Mademoiselle 
Moiseney accompanied him to the carriage and said : ‘‘Oh, 

what an admirable daughter you have, sir ! The courage 
and decision Antoinette has shown ! The resolution 
with which she has buried all thoughts of an impossible 
happiness ! Did you observe her during dinner ? How 
quiet and attentive she was ! Don’t you think her. mar- 
vellous ? ” 

“ As marvellous as you are sagacious,” was his reply. 

“ Ah, to be sure, I never thought that she loved him as 
much as you declared; but he pleased her and she took a fancy 
to him. Did she give vent to one moan or sigh when she 
learned the cruel truth 1 What strength of mind, what an 
equable temper, what nobility of feeling ! You don’t admire 
her sufficiently, sir ; you are not proud enough of having such 
a daughter. I take a little credit to myself for having had 
some share in her education. I always tried to develop her 
judgment and put her on her guard against all extravagances. 
Yes, I may venture to say that I took a great deal of pains 
to cultivate and strengthen her mind.” 

“ I am most grateful to you,” rejoined M. Moriaz, ensconc- 
ing himself in a corner of the carriage ; “ you can boast of 
having achieved a marvellous work ; but pray, mademoiselle, 
when your speech is ended, give notice to the coachman that 
he may start.” 

On the way, M. Moriaz indulged in melancholy reflections 
and self-reproaches. “We have gone to work in a very 
foolish way,” thought he. “ Her imagination was taken by 
surprise, and she would have quieted down in time. We 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


133 


should have left her to herself, and to her own safe-guard, 
her natural good sense, for she has some, after all. Unluckily 
I thought of calling Madame de Lorcy to my aid, and she 
has spoiled all by her artifices. As soon as Antoinette sus- 
pected that we condemned her choice and were plotting 
against the enemy, the mingled sympathy and admiration 
she entertained for M. Larinski became love, and the fire 
concealed beneath the ashes burst into flames. We had for- 
gotten to allow for that innate feminine passion which 
phrenologists term combativeness. Now she feels that she 
has a stake to win ; when love combines with the interest of 
a game or battle, it becomes irresistible, and so our cam- 
paign is gravely compromised, unless heaven or M, Larinski 
interfere.’^ 

Such was the reasoning of M. Moriaz, whom paternal mis- 
adventures and his recent experience had rendered a better 
psychologist than heretofore. But while reasoning, he was 
driving at a good rate, and thirty-five minutes brought him 
to the door of the little villa where the Abbe Miollens 
resided. He found him in his study, installed in a com- 
fortable arm-chair, embroidered for him by Madame de Lorcy, 
and sipping a cup of some excellent tea brought him from 
China by some missionaries. On his left hand lay his 
violin-case, on his right, his precious Horace, Orelli’s edition, 
Zurich, 1844. 

Conversation began. As s^on as M. Moriaz mentioned 
Count Larinski’s name, the abbe assumed the delighted and 
attentive air of a dog that sees his favourite game pass and 
points. 

^ “ What a wonderful man !” he exclaimed. 

‘‘ Mercy on me,” thought M. Moriaz, here is another 
exordium strongly resembling Mademoiselle Moiseney’s. 
Am I to be condemned for ever to forced admiration ? 
I fear there is some mental bond of union between oiu' 


134 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


friend the abb^, and that fool of a woman ; he may be 
her cousin.” 

How much obliged to you I am, dear sir,” pursued the 
Abb^ Miollens, settling himself in his chair, “ for having led 
ns to make the acquaintance of such an uncommon man 1 It 
was you who introduced him to us, or rather the credit is 
yours of having discovered and invented him.” 

“ Oh, pray do not exaggerate,” replied M. Moriaz, humbly, 
‘‘ he invented himself.” 

‘‘ At any rate, it was you that patronized him and brought 
him out ; without you, the world would never have suspected 
the existence of this great genius and noble character, con- 
cealed like a violet beneath the wayside grass.” 

“ They must be cousins,” said M. Moriaz to himself. 

And see here,” continued the abbe, would you believe 
that I have found an exact portrait of M. Larinski in 
Horace? Yes, Horace has drawn him most minutely in 
the person of Lollius, Marcus Lollius, you know, to whom 
he addresses Ode ix. of book iv., and who was consul 
733 A.U.C. The resemblance is most striking, as I will show 
you.” 

He put down his cup, and taking the book in his right 
hand, while with the forefinger of the left he complacently 
underlined the beauties of the text or pressed his lip, he 
said : ^‘What do you say to this ? ‘Your soul is wise,^ writes 
Horace to Lollius, ‘ and resists the temptations of prosperity 
with as much constancy as those of adversity, est animus tibi 
et secundis temporihus duhusque rectus.^ Is not that Count 
Larinski ? But stop, Lollius detested fraud and cupidity, 
and despised money which seduces all men, ^ abstinens 
ducentis ad se cuncta pecuniced This is a most striking trait ; 
between ourselves, I think our dear count despises money a 
little too much, he turns from it with aversion, and hates its 
very name, he is an Epictetus, a Diogenes, an ancient 


SAiltJEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


135 


anchorite who would have lived happily in the Thebaid. He 
told us himself that a glass of toast and water and a dinner 
at the Caf6 Anglais were all the same to him. I have not 
yet finished. ‘ Happy/ exclaims Horace, ‘ is he who can 
endure the hardships of poverty without complaint, qui 
duram callet pauperiem pati P Of whom is he speaking, of 
Lollius, or of our friend, who not only endures his poverty, 
but loves and cherishes it as a lover adores his mistress ? 
And what do you think . of this final trait ? Lollius was 
always ready to die for his country, ‘ non ille pro patria 
timidus perire.^ Now, really, is not that singular? Might 
we not fancy that Horace had known Count Larinski at Borne 
or at Tibur ?” 

“ I have not the slightest doubt of it,” replied M. Moriaz, 
taking the book from the abba’s hands and laying it respect- 
fully on the table. “ Fortunately, our friend Larinski, as 
you call him, wisely thought of returning to life about 
thirty years since, which has procured us the pleasure of 
meeting him at St. Moritz, and since we are on this sub- 
ject — My dear abbe, is your mind free ? Can you attend 
to me ? I want to put a question to you, and ask you to 
enlighten me. I don’t apply to you merely as a friend, but 
as a confessor, a director of consciences, the man in whose 
discretion I have the utmost confidence.” 

I am all attention,” returned the abb^ throwing himself 
back in his arm-chair, and crossing his long slender legs, of 
which he was proud. 

M. Moriaz plunged at once into his subject. The abbe was 
some time in guessing his drift. As soon as it dawned upon 
him, his face lengthened, and uncrossing his legs, he ex- 
claimed: ‘‘What a pity! You must renounce the realisation 
of your beautiful dream. I feel greatly distressed about it. 
I can enter into the joy with which you would have seen 
your charming daughter devote, I will not say her fortune, for 


136 


SAMUEL BEOHL ATTD PABT^TEII. 


you know, as well as I, how little Count Larinski would value 
that, but her grace, her beauty, and all the virtues of her 
angelic nature, to secure the happiness of a man of rare 
merits, whom providence has severely tried. She loves him, 
and is loved by him, heaven would have blessed their 
union What a pity ! I repeat that, the marriage is im- 

possible, our friend is already married.” 

Are you quite sure exclaimed M. Moriaz, with a burst 
of enthusiasm, which the good abbe took for the climax of 
despair. 

“ I am distressed to give you such pain. Am I sure of 
it? I have it from our friend’s own lips. One night, some- 
thing, I forget what, led me to ask : Are you married, 
count ? He replied curtly : I thought I had told you so. 
Ah, my dear professor, I won’t answer for the marriage 
being a happy one, but that has nothing to do with this 
business.” 

“ Well, this is positive,” replied M. Moriaz hastily, ‘‘ and I 
am not prepared to dispute the evidence.” 

“Alas, no,” returned the abbe, but after deliberating, 
a few seconds, and making a pause, he added : “ Never- 
theless ” 

“Nevertheless — -nothing, you may be sure that your word 
is enough for me.” 

“But supposing I had misunderstood — ” 

“ I have perfect confidence in your ears ; they are ex- 
cellent.” 

“Allow me, we must not despair too readily. Count 
Larinski called this afternoon when I was out, I ought to 
bid him good-bye. To-morrow morning I promise to go to 
him.” 

“ What is the use ? ” put in M. Moriaz, “ I am heartily 
obliged by yoiir kindness, but heaven preserve me from 
breaking in unnecessarily on your occupations ; your time 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


137 


is so valuable ! I declare I am perfectly satisfied, it would 
be unbocomiiig to ask for further proof ; I accept it, and 
there is no more to be said.’^ 

As Madame de Lorcy had observed, the Abb6 Miollens 
was not ready to abandon any idea which approved itself to 
his mind. In vain did M. Moriaz combat his proposition, 
cursing in his heart such excess of zeal ; the abbe would not 
relinquish it, and M. Moriaz was forced to give in. It was 
settled that the worthy man should call' on Count Larinski 
next day, and that he should come direct from Paris to 
Cormeilles to communicate the results of his mission to those 
interested. 

M. Moriaz saw that this arrangement presented the ad- 
vantage of Antoinette’s learning the fatal truth from the 
abbe’s own lips ; he left him with a recommendation to be 
most circumspect, as wise as a serpent and as discreet as a 
confessional box. Then he took his leave in tolerable spirits, 
being hopeful as to the future, and being in altogether 
a different humour, the road from Maisons to Cormeilles 
seemed very much pleasanter than that from Cormeilles to 
Maisons. 

Samuel Brohl was seated before an empty trunk, which 
he was doubtless about to pack, when he heard a knock at 
his door. He went to open it, and found himself face to 
face with the Abbe Miollens. From their very first inter- 
view, Samuel Brohl had conceived for the abbe that warm 
sympathy and ready liking which he felt for those in whom 
he thought he recognised serviceable people, whom he might 
turn to account, and who seemed visibly predestinated to 
be of essential use to him. He was hardly ever mistaken 3 
he was skilled in diagnostics, and could read the divine 
mark of predestination on a face at the first glance. He re- 
ceived his reverend friend most cordially, and ushered him 
all the more warmly into his modest apartments because of 


138 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


the singular, mysterious, and rather agitated manner he 
noticed about him. “ Can he have come as a diplomatic agent, 
charged with some extraordinary mission ? ” he asked himself. 

The discerning abbe, on his side, studied Samuel Brohl 
without appearing to do so. He was struck by his counten- 
ance, which at this moment expressed a manly, melancholy 
pride. His eyes occasionally betrayed the secret of an heroic 
sorrow, which had sworn to keep silence before men and 
confess itself only to God. 

They sat down and began to talk, the abb4 leading the 
conversation at first to indifferent topics. Samuel Brohl 
listened and replied with melancholy grace. Great as his 
curiosity was, he was always able to control his impatience. 
Samuel Brohl was never in a hurry, Samuel Brohl knew how 
to wait : he had proved it during the past month, and it is 
a gift which many a diplomatist lacks. 

The Abbe Miollens’ visit had reached the ordinary limits 
of a call, and he seemed about to rise, when, pointing to the 
open valise, he said : ‘‘ These preparations distress me. I 
had intended to invite you to klaisons, my dear count ; I 
had a room to offer you. Hoc erat in votis, I should have 
been delighted to have you for a guest. We should have 
talked and played every evening, close to a window opening 
on a garden. Hoe latebrce dulceSy etiam^ si credis, amoence. 
Alas, you are ungrateful, you wull leave us. Vienna must 
have great attractions for you ! — But no doubt you have a 
pleasant home awaiting you, a charming wife, and perhaps 
children — 

Samuel looked at him with an astonished and startled air, 
as he had looked at Madame de Lorcy when she spoke to 
him of the Countess Larinski. 

‘‘ What do you mean ? ” asked he. 

“ Why ! Did not you yourself tell me that you were 
wedded?” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


139 


Samuel opened his eyes ; for some moments he seemed to 
ponder; then striking his forehead and smiling, ‘‘ Oh, I see,” 
he exclaimed. ‘‘You took my words literally. I thought 
you would have understood me. No, my dear abb6, I am 
not married and never shall be ; but there are voluntary 
unions as sacred and indissoluble as marriage.” 

The abb6 frowned, and his face assumed a severe expression 
of annoyance. He was about to read his dear count a 
sermon under three heads, against immorality and the 
d augers of voluntary unions, but Samuel gave him no 
time. 

“ I am not going to Vienna to meet my mistress,” he re- 
sumed. “ She never leaves me, she accompanies me every- 
where — she is here.” 

The Abb6 Miollens cast a startled glance around, expecting 
to see a woman come out of some cupboard or from behind a 
curtain. 

“ I tell you that she is here,” repeated Samuel Brohl, and 
he pointed to an alabaster figure mounted on a pedestal. 
The abbe went up to it. The statuette represented a woman 
bound with cords, and two Cossacks flogging her with the 
knout ; the base bore this inscription : Polonia vincta et 
flagellata. 

The abbess face relaxed in an instant, his brow unbent, 
his mouth expanded, and his eyes sparkled with joy. “How 
well it was I came,” thought he, “ and how much obliged 
M. Moriaz will be to me ! ” 

Turning towards Samuel, he exclaimed ; I am a perfect 
fool, I fancied — Ah, I understand now, your mistress is 
Poland, I prefer that, and this is indeed a voluntary union as 
sacred as marriage. It has the further advantage of being 
no hindrance. Poland is not jealous, and should you chance 
to meet a woman worthy of you and long to marry her, your 
mistress would make no objections. Let us rather call her. 


140 SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 

not your mistress, but your mother, and reasonable mothers 
never prevent their sons from marrying.’’ 

Samuel Brohl in his turn assumed a grave stem look, 
and replied, with his eyes fixed steadily on the statuette : 
“ You are mistaken, I am hers, and have no right to dis- 
pose of my heart, my soul, or my life ; my last thoughts and 
my last drop of blood belong to her. I am as much bound 
by the oaths I have sworn to her as a monk can be by his 
vows.” 

“ Excuse me, my dear count,” said the abb6 ; this is sheer 
fanaticism, if I know anything about it. When have 
patriots ever vowed to remain single ? Their first duty is to 
raise children who shall be good citizens. When there are 
no more Poles, Poland will be no more.” 

Samuel Brohl interrupted him by seizing his arm and say- 
ing with a bitter smile : “ Take a good look at me ; don’t I 
look like an adventurer ? ” 

The abbe protested. 

“Does the word scandalise you?” continued Samuel. 
“ Well, I am a man of adventure, born to be always on the 
wing. Marriage was not invented for men who run risks.” 
He added in a tragic voice : “ You know what is going on 
in Bosnia. Who can be certain that a general war may not 
break out presently, and who can foresee its consequences ? 
I must hold myself in readiness for that day. Perhaps an 
inscrutable Providence may shortly afford me another oppor- 
tunity of risking my life for my country ; perhaps Poland 
may call me, crying : ‘Come, I have need of thee!’ If I were 
to reply : ‘ Times have changed, I have given my heart to a 
woman who holds me in bondage ; I have now a roof, a 
family, a home, and precious bonds which I cannot break ; ’ 
would not Poland, I ask, be justified in saying ; ‘ Thou hast 
broken thine oath, thou hast denied me, and I curse thee!’” 

The Abbe MioUens had just taken a pinch of snuff, and as 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


141 


he listened to this speech, he tapped his fingers on the lid of 
his beautiful gold snuff-box, a present from his most charm- 
ing penitent. 

‘‘ Is your conscience perfectly easy on this score, my dear 
friend ? for you will allow me, I trust, to call you so,” was 
his reply. Are you sure that yoiir conscience does not re- 
proach you ? Are you sure that your heart has remained 
perfectly faithful to its mistress ? If I am to believe what I 
hear, a rather strange scene occurred at Madame de Lorcy’s 
yesterday.” 

Samuel Brohl started, changed colour, and buried his face 
in his hands, probably to hide from the abb^ the blushes 
with which remorse dyed his cheeks. He murmured in a 
low voice : ‘‘Not another word ; you have touched a deep 
wound ! ” 

“ Then it is true that you love Mademoiselle Antoinette 
Moriaz ? ” resumed the abbe. 

“ I had sworn that she* should never suspect it,” replied 
Samuel, in accents of the deepest contrition. “ Yesterday I 
was so abominably weak as to betray myself. Heavens ! 
what must she think of me?” And while speaking thus 
with his face buried in his hands, he opened his fingers 
gently and fixed his brilliant eyes, — which could see as well 
as a cat’s in the dark — upon the abbe. 

“ What does she think of you ? ” said the abb6, taking 
another pinch. “ Why, my dear count, women are never 
angry with a man for fainting under the influence of their 
charming eyes, and especially when the man is a hero, a 
Knight of the Round Table. I have reason to believe that 
Mademoiselle Moriaz is not displeased with you on account 
of your accident. Shall I tell you what I think ? I should 
not be surprised if you had touched her heart, and if, suppos- 
ing you took the trouble, you might not some day flatter 
yourself with the hope of gaining her love.” 


142 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


At that moment the voice of Samuel BrohPs reverend 
friend seemed to him the most harmonious music. He felt 
a delightful thrill run through his body. The abbe had told 
him nothing new; but there are things of which we feel 
certain, things that we have told ourselves hundreds of times, 
which have nevertheless the effect of novelty when we hear 
them for the first time from another’s lips. 

‘‘ Are you not deceiving me ? ” cried Samuel, beside him- 
self with joy. “ What, can it be true — I might hope some 
day — some day she might judge me worthy. — Oh, what 
visions you conjure up ! You are both kind and cruel ! 
What bitters are mixed with the sweet delight of your 
words ! No, I could never have believed that grief could 
contain so much joy, and joy so much grief.” 

‘‘ What do you mean, my dear count ? ” resumed the 
abbe. ‘‘ Do you want a negotiator ? I may boast of having 
some experience. I am quite at your service.” 

These words brought Samuel Brohl back to his senses. 
He drew himself up and answered coldly ; ‘‘A negotiator ? 
What should I want with a negotiator ? Do not flatter me 
with idle fancies, and above all do not ask me to sacrifice 
my honour to them. I must renounce for ever the superla- 
tive felicity you venture to offer me, I have told you why.” 

The Abbe Miollens was rather vexed, and took upon him- 
self to scold and lecture his noble friend. He remonstrated 
with him upon having too much sternness of principle, upon 
carrying virtue to exaggeration, and upon showing overmuch 
refinement in the exquisite delicacy of his conscience. He 
pointed out how fine minds ought to be on their guard 
against being carried away by sentiment. He quoted the 
Testament and Bossuet, as well as his beloved Horace, who 
censured whatever was exaggerated, and advised the wise to 
shun all extremes. His reasoning availed nothing against 
the other’s unalterable resolution ; Samuel stood firm as a 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


143 


rock against every remonstrance, and at length closed the 
abba’s lips by saying : 

“Pray respect my folly, which is certainly wisdom in 
God's sight. I am no longer free, I repeat, and even if I 
were, do you not know that there is an insurmountable 
obstacle between Mademoiselle Moriaz and myself?” 

“ What is that h ” asl^d the abb^. 

“ Her fortune and my pride,” replied Samuel. “ She is 
rich and I am poor, this adorable creature was not made for 
me. I told Madame de Lorcy one day what I thought of 
this kind of alliance or bargain. Yes, my revered friend, I. 
love Mademoiselle Moriaz with an ardent passion for which I 
reproach myself as if it were a crime. All I can do is never 
to see her again, and I never will see her again. Let me 
follow my gloomy, solitary path to the end. I shall have 
one consolation ; I shall tell myself that happiness was not 
rejected me, that my conscience, warned from on high, re- 
fused it : and that there is a divine sweetness in great 
sacrifices, and a blessing in great trials accepted in a 
religious spirit. Believe me, God is speaking to me now, as 
He once spoke to me at San Francisco: enjoining me to 
leave all and give my blood for my country. I recognise 
His voice commanding my heart to be silent and sacrifice 
itself. God and Poland ! I must recognise nothing else but 
these.” 

And turning again to the statuette, he cried, “ I will lay 
my painful sacrifice at her feet, she shall heal my broken 
and wounded heart.” 

Samuel Brohl spoke in a quivering voice, his divine 
aspirations caused, the hair of his head to stand up and 
brought tears to his eyes. The good abb4's eyes were also 
moist, he was deeply touched, and cast wide-eyed glances at 
this hero, filled with admiration for his antique type of 
character and heavenly mind. Pie had never met with any- 


144 


SAMUEL BEOHL AITD BAETNER. 


thing to equal it in Horace^s odes or epistles, Lollius himself 
was surpassed. Transported with admiration, he opened 
both arms to Samuel Brohl, extending them wide as if he 
feared they would not be able to contain so great a man, and 
exclaimed as he pressed him to his heart : “ Ah, my dear 
count, what a grand, what a wonderful man you are 1 ” 


CHAPTER VIIL 

The Abb4 Miollens hastened to repair to Cormeilles and 
give a detailed account of his conference with Count Lar- 
inski. Having come direct from the interview, he accorded 
free vent to his enthusiasm, and sang the praises of this 
antique mind, this heavenly soul, which had just revealed to 
him its hidden treasm-es. M. Moriaz astonished and shocked 
him greatly by saying : “ You are right, this Polo is a wonder- 
ful man, worthy of being canonized or hanged, I don’t exactly 
know which.” 

Antoinette did not say a word, but kept her reflections to 
herself. She retired to her room, and walked up and down 
for some time, uncertain, or rather anxious, about what she 
was going to do. Again and again she went up to her 
writing-table and looked at her desk; then a scruple seized 
her, and she walked away. At last she came to a decision, 
took up her pen, and wrote as follows : 

“ Sir, — Before starting for Vienna, pray be so good as to 
come to Cormeilles for a few minutes. I wish to have an 
interview with you in my father’s presence. Yours very 
sincerely, Antoinette Moriaz.” 


SAMUEL BROIIL AND PARTNER. 


145 


The following morning she received the expected reply by 
the first post, it ran as follows : 

“ The trial would be too great for my courage. I shall 
not see you again, if I did, I should be a lost man.” 

This short note caused Mademoiselle Moriaz bitter disap- 
pointment and a little anger. She was holding a paint-brush 
in. her hand, and she snapped the handle in two, as if to con- 
sole herself for her inability to bend Count Abel Larinski’s 
proud and stubborn will. Is iron or a diamond to be bent ? 
The postman had put into her hands another letter, which 
she opened mechanically for duty’s sake. She ran her eyes 
over the first few lines without taking in a word that she 
read. Suddenly her attention was aroused, her face lighted 
up, her eyes sparkled. This letter, sent her by a merciful 
Providence as a last resource in her distress, came from 
Mademoiselle Galet, and the ex-flower-maker of the Kue 
Mouffetard wrote as follows : 

“ My dear young lady, — I hear that yoii have returned ; 
how glad I am, and how I long to see you again ! You are 
my guardian angel, I wish to see you every day of my life, 
and the time has seemed very long. When you enter the 
poor invalid’s garret, she feels as if there were three suns in 
the sky; when you leave her, the noon becomes night. 
Madame de Lorcy has been very kind to me. She came a 
fortnight ago, as my angel had requested her, to pay my last 
quarter’s allowance. She is a very charitable lady, and 
splendidly dressed, but rather hard on poor people. She 
asks a great many questions, and wants to know everything. 
She told me that I spent too much, and was fond of luxuries, 
and you know whether that is true or not. She is not 
aware how things have risen in price, how dear meat and 
potatoes are, and that eggs cost a franc and a half the dozen 

K 


146 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


just now. Besides, a poor creature like myself, without the 
use of her legs, cannot do her own marketing. The woman 
who does up my place may not understand how to buy ; I 
scold her tremendously if by any chance she brings me 
things when they first come in ; God knows that I care very 
little about my eating. 

“This kind Madame de Lorcy scolded me too about a 
bouquet of camellias which she saw on my table, precisely 
similar to the one for which I thanked my angel ; I donT 
know what she must have thought. Well, my dear young 
lady, I have since learned that these double camellias, red 
striped with white, were sent by a man, for men are now 
beginning to give me bouquets and pay me visits ; rather 
late in the day, is it not I The one I am speaking of intro- 
duced himself one morning, saying that you had mentioned 
me, and he wished to ascertain that I was well and wanted 
for nothing. He has been here several times since, and 
always brought me some luxury. The best thing he ever 
brought was the news of my angers return. What a man 
he is ! He might have come direct /rom heaven. One 
night when I was ill, he gave me my medicine himself, and 
would have sat up to nurse me, if I would have allowed 
him. You must tell me who he is, for I am most curious to 
know. He has a head like a lion, and looks as generous as 
he is handsome, but very sad. He must have some great 
trouble. Unfortunately I shall not have him to spoil me 
any more ; it will be all over soon. He leaves in two days, 
and has told me that he will come to bid me good-bye 
to-morrow afternoon. 

“ You will come soon, wonT you, my dear young lady ? I 
am dying to embrace you, since you allow me to take that 
liberty. You are my sun and my angel, and I am your 
most humble and devoted servant, 


“Louise Galet.' 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


147 


Mademoiselle Louise GaJet^s letter contained nothing that 
was inaccm-ate, except perhaps the passage about the 
tremendous scoldings she gave her charwoman for buying 
things early in the season. If the good lady’s antecedents 
were not perfectly irreproachable, she had still some prin- 
ciple and never told falsehoods ; but she did not tell the 
whole truth, and omitted some details in her story. 

She had not cared to add a postscript to say how well she 
had been paid for her letter. It had been written at Samuel 
Brohl’s instigation, though he had not enlightened her as to 
his object. She had partly guessed it, being tolerably acute. 
He had committed himself to her discretion, and paid her in 
solid coin. It was a good round sum ; Mademoiselle Galet 
refused it at first, but ended by accepting it with tender 
gratitude. Presents and short reckonings make good 
friends. 

A daring idea suddenly occurred to Mademoiselle Moriaz ; 
there was no time to be lost, and she was no longer one to 
shrink from an act of audacity. She ordered the horses to be 
put to. M. Moriaz had just gone out to make a call on a 
neighbour, and, taking advantage of his absence, she begged 
Mademoiselle Moiseney to put on her bonnet at once and 
accompany her to Paris, as she wanted to see her dressmaker. 
In ten minutes she was in the carriage, and had told the 
coachman to drive as fast as he could. 

The dressmaker did not detain her long, and from the 
Rue de la Paix, she was driven on to No. 27 Rue Mouffetard. 
She never suffered Mademoiselle Moiseney, whose wind 
was not good, to climb after her to the fifth floor where 
Mademoiselle Galet lived ; she gave her express commands 
to remain below, and wait quietly for her in the carriage. 

She ascended the stairs nimbly, and met a servant on the 
way, who informed her that Mademoiselle Galet, not being 
very well, had lain down on her bed and was having a 


148 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


nap, but that she would find the key in the door. The 
apartments she was about to enter consisted of three rooms, 
an ante-room which served as a kitchen, a small sitting- 
room and a bedroom. She paused a few moments in the 
ante-room to take breath, to summon up courage, and 
collect her thoughts, for she had guessed that there was 
some one in the next room. She entered it and found, 
not Mademoiselle Galet, but the man whom she had come 
in search of. He was apparently waiting for the occupant 
of the apartments to awake. On catching sight of the 
woman whom he had sworn never to set eyes on 
again, he shuddered and glanced all round to find some 
means of escape, but there was none. Antoinette was stand- 
ing in front of the doorway and barred the passage. She 
looked at him and felt almost certain of her victory ; he 
looked like a conquered man, and his defeat seemed a total 
overthrow. 

She folded her arms, assumed a smiling expression, and 
said to the count in a steady voice, and slightly bantering 
tone : “ So this is the way you steal my poor people from 
me ! It is to deck them with flowers, certainly. Own that 
there is a little hypocrisy in your virtue : Mademoiselle 
Galet never suspected that you were giving those famous 
camellias to me ! Sixty franc bouquets, what madness ? 
How you despise money ! How is that you do not despise 
mine ? You are afraid of it, and dare not touch it lest it 
should burn your fingers. Will you not help me to throw 
it out of the window ? Your poor people and mine shall 
pick it up. I^lome, won’t you ? My fortune is not so very 
large, but I am sure that I cannot spend it all myself ; there 
is enough for two, for two who would be but one. Cannot 
you consent to this division ? Your pride forbids it. You 
acted a part the other day, you do not really love me. 
It costs so little to be under obligations to those we love.” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


149 


He made a gesture of despair and exclaimed : I implore 

you to let me go.” 

Presently ; I want to tell you what I think first. I 
take but little account of your pretended pride, it is 
haughtiness, and this you make your idol, a pitiful idol ! 
And as to Poland — ” 

He gave a start. After a pause she continued : ‘‘ It is 

she herself who gives or rather lends you to me. I promise 
you that if she is ever in need of you, I will say to her, 

‘ Here, take him again,’ and to you, ‘ Go, she claims yom 
But pray speak to me and look at me, it will not hurt you. 
Are you afraid of me ? Have the courage to tell me to my 
face what you have said to other people.” 

He sank back in a chair, and with his head bent down and" 
nls arms hanging by his side, murmured : ‘‘I was sure that 
if I saw you again, I should be lost.” 

“ Say rather, saved, your mind was diseased, I have healed 
you. I can work miracles ; you once took the trouble to 
write that to me. Will you take my hand ? it pledges you 
to nothing, you can easily withdraw yours.” 

He took the hand she held out, not raising it to his lips, 
but holding it in his own. 

‘‘ Listen to me,” she resumed. “ This very day, and very 
soon, you are to start for Cormeilles and to say to my father : 

‘ She has offered me her hand, I wish to keep it, give it me.’ 
Do you consent 1 Will you obey me ? ” 

He cried : “ You are here and you speak to me, the world 

has vanished and I hear no other voice ! ” 

‘‘That is right. When people enter into explanations, 
they come to an understanding ; but to bring this about 
the essential part is to see one another. Since you are so 
sensible when you see me, I wish you to keep me always in 
sight. Take this ! ” 

She gave him a locket containing her likeness and went 


150 


SAMULL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


towards the door. At the threshold she turned round, and 
said : “ Tell Mademoiselle Galet that I would not disturb 

her, and that I shall come again to-morrow. Mademoiselle 
Moiseney will be tired of waiting for me. I have your promise, 
to-night ! I am going.” 

And away she fled. 

The coachman drove back with the same speed that he 
had come, and they reached Cormeilles before the soup had 
had time to cool. Yet M. Moriaz had had time to grow 
anxious. He did not sit down to table without questioning 
Mademoiselle Moiseney, who knowing nothing, could give 
him no information; still she replied in the mysterious 
manner beneath which she always veiled her ignorance. He 
’[determined therefore to question Antoinette after dinner. 
She forestalled him, however, by taking him aside and telling 
him what had transpired. 

“ I presume,” said she, ‘‘ that you will now believe in his 
pride and disinterestedness. I had told you that I should 
have to go on my knees to induce him to marry me,” 

He could not restrain a movement of indignation. 

‘‘ Oh, be consoled,” she went on to say, “ that is a mere 
figure of speech. He was at my feet and I was standing.” 

M. Moriaz opened and closed his mouth three times with- 
out uttering a syllable. He contented himself by making 
a gesture which meant : “ The die is cast ; let us await the 

event.” 

Samuel Brohl had been careful to keep his word. After 
making a scrupulous toilet, he had taken the train to Argen- 
teuil, and there hired a carriage. He arrived at Cormeilles 
just as it struck nine. He was shown into the drawing-room, 
where M. Moriaz sat awaiting him reading the newspaper. 
Samuel was pale and his lips quivered with emotion. He 
bowed low to M. Moriaz, saying: “I feel myself guilty, sir; 
pray refuse what I ask.” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


161 


M. Moriaz^s reply was : “Well, sir, I may say that you 
are come, in the words of Scripture, like a thief in the night, 
but I have nothing to refuse you. I must own that you are 
not the son-in-law I had thought of, but that is no matter, 
j my daughter is her own mistress, and I have no reason to 
I believe her mistaken in her choice. You are a man of taste 
and honour, and you know the value of what you are about 
to receive. If you make Antoinette happy, I shall be your 
warm friend. Now I have said all, let us consider your reply 
as made and talk of other things.’’ 

Samuel Brohl took the hint, and did not insist on replying, 
but talked of other things. He could be pleasant as well as 
dignified. He made himself as agreeable and charming as 
his strong emotion would allow. M. Moriaz was forced to 
own to himself that Count Larinski was as good company at 
Cormeilles as at St. Moritz, and had no other fault than that 
of wishing to become his son-in-law. 

Their conversation was prolonged. Ajitoinette, meanwhile, 
was walking in front of the house, inhaling the jasmine- 
scented air, and pouring out her heart to the night and the 
stars. The only thing that disturbed her happy reverie was 
the incessant flight of a bat, which kept flitting from one end 
of the terrace to the other, on its quivering wings. The 
unclean beast seemed to haunt her, it persisted in flying 
round her, and brushed her hair as it passed; Antoinette 
thought she could distinguish its hideous face and long ears, 
and drew back with a shudder. 

She heard a step upon the gravel. Samuel Brohl had 
taken leave of M. Moriaz and was crossing the terrace on his 
way to his carriage. He recognised Antoinette, came up to 
her, and clasped a bracelet which he held in his hand round 
her wrist, saying : “ Why cannot I give you anything as 
valuable as the locket which you have deigned to bestow on 
me, and which I shall always carry about with me 1 Yet 


152 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


this trinket is of some value in my eyes. My mother was 
fond of it, and always refused to part with it, even in her 
utmost need; it was on her arm when she died.” 

We are never perfectly consistent, and there is no human 
clay without some grains of gold. Designing men, and even 
villains, are capable of a passing sentiment that is pure and 
sincere ; on some occasions, every man is better than himself. 
The upper part of Mademoiselle Moriaz’s face was shrouded 
in her hood, the lower was illumined by the moon now rising 
above the hills ; Samuel Brohl contemplated the face and 
hood in silence, and felt that Antoinette was as beautiful as 
a spirit. For two minutes, he forgot that she had a hundred 
thousand francs a year, and that, according to all probability, 
M. Moriaz would die some day. He w’^as absorbed in the 
thought that this woman loved him and would soon be his 
own. Yes, for two minutes, Samuel Brohl was as passion- 
ately in love with Mademoiselle Moriaz as Count Larinski 
could have been. 

He could not resist the feeling by which he was carried 
aw’ay. He twined his arms round Antoinette’s supple waist 
and planted a burning kiss, a tme Polish kiss, on the roots 
of her hair. She made no resistance ; but at this moment, 
the bat who had already annoyed her by its attentions, 
returned to the charge, struck her full in the face, and was 
caught in her hood. Antoinette felt the chill of its mem- 
branous wings and hooked claws. She snatched off her hood 
and threw it to a distance. Samuel Brohl darted to pick 
it up, pressed it to his lips, ^nd fled like a thief carrying away 
his booty. 

When Antoinette re-entered the drawing-room, she found 
it occupied by Mademoiselle Moiseney, w^hose noisy and dis- 
tracted joy had just put M. Moriaz to flight. This time. 
Mademoiselle Moiseney knew all. She had seen Samuel 
Brohl arrive, and had been unable to resist her over-strained 


SAMUEL BBOHL AND PABTNEB. 


153 


curiosity; she had felt no scruples about eavesdropping. 
She pounced upon Antoinette, pressed her to her heart, and 
cried : “ Oh, my dear, my dear ! Did not I always say it 
would end so T 

Mademoiselle Moriaz hastened to free herself from these em- 
I braces ; she wanted to be alone. When she regained her 
I own room, she walked round it ; the furniture, the what-nots 
laden with ornaments, the pink and white striped silk hang- 
ings, the muslin curtains of her bed, and the large silver 
crucifix suspended from the wall opposite, seemed to look at 
her with astonishment, questioning her, and saying: “What 
can have happened She answered : “You are right, some- 
thing has happened.” 

She stood in contemplation before a portrait of her mother, 
whom she had lost very young. “ I am told,” said she, 
“ that you were a great reader of novels. I am not fond of 
them, and never read them ; but I have just taken part in a 
romance that would have satisfied you. This man would 
have astonished you a little, and pleased you still more. A 
few hours ago, he was lost to me for ever. I was bold, and 
went in search of him, and when he saw me, he surrendered. 
He was with me on the terrace just now. His lips touched 
me here, at the roots of my hair, and I trembled from head 
to foot. Do not be indignant ; they are pure and loyal lips I 
The sacred fire has touched them ; they have never lied, none 
but proud and noble words fall from them, they speak 
modestly of a blameless life. Why are you not with me 1 
I have a thousand things to tell you, which you alone could 
understand, no one else understands me.” 

She began to undress. After taking down her hair, she 
remembered that there was One in the room who under- 
stands all, and to whom she had not yet spoken. She knelt 
down, with bare shoulders, and joining her hands and fixing 
her eyes on the silver crucifix, said in a low voice : 


154 


SAMUEL BBOHL AND PARTNER. 


“ Forgive me for forgetting Thee, Thou who hast nevei 
forgotten me. Praise be to Thee, Thou hast heard my 
desires, and given me the bliss of which I dreamed without 
daring to ask it. Happy indeed I am, perfectly happy. I 
promise Thee to shed my joy over the humble and wretched 
in this world ; I will love them more than I have yet done. 
When meat and drink are given to them, they are given to 
Thyself, and when flowers are given them, the crown of 
thorns which made Thy brow to bleed bursts forthr into 
bloom. I will give them flowers and bread. Thou art not a 
jealous God, whatever they may say. Full as my heart may 
be. Thou knowest the place reserved for Thee, and that 
whenever Thou knockest at the door, I shall cry, ‘ Enter, the 
house and all that therein is is Thine my happiness blesses 
Thee, bless Thou it !” 

While Mademoiselle Moriaz was communing with a crucifix, 
Samuel Brohl was rolling along the three miles odd of high 
road between Cormeilles and Argenteuil. He carried his 
head high, his eyes sparkled, his temples throbbed, and he 
felt as if his expanded breast could contain the world. He 
spoke to himself, murmuring the self-same words again and 
again. “ She is mine said he to the passers-by, to the vines 
by the roadside, to the hill of Sannois, and the Trouillet mill, 
which rose in faint outline against the sky. “ She is mine !” 
said he to the moon, which shone that night for him alone, 
its sole occupation being to gaze on Samuel Brohl. It was 
easy to see that it was in the secret, it knew that Samuel 
Brohl was to marry Mademoiselle Moriaz before long, and 
was so charmed that it had dressed itself in its best, in 
honour of this wonderful event, and its great orange face 
beamed wuth sympathy and joy. 

Although Samuel had charged his coachman to drive 
at full speed, he missed the last train, and so decided to 
sleep at Argenteuil. He threw himself upon the hospitality 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


155 


of the Ccaur- Volant^ and ordered a great bowl of punch, his 
favourite beverage. He went to bed expecting to have 
delightful dreams ; but his slumbers were disturbed by a 
very disagreeable incident. Fine days are often fol- 
lowed by bad nights, and the Goeur- Volant inn was destined 
to leave an unfavourable impression on Samuel Brohl’s 
mind. 

Towards four o’clock in the morning, he heard a knock at 
his door, and a familiar voice crying ; “ Come, let me in ! ” 
He was seized with horrible anguish ; he felt paralysed and 
could scarcely raise himself up. He remembered that he 
had bolted himself in, a reflection which was reassuring. 
Great, however, was his stupefaction on seeing the bolt slide 
back in its sockets ! The door opened, some one entered, 
walked slowly up to Samuel, drew back the bed-curtains, 
and bent over him with the large eyes and steady gaze that 
he knew so well. They were strange eyes, full of both 
gentleness and fire, audacity and candour, a combination of 
the child, the genius, and the madman. 

Samuel Brohl shivered ; he tried to speak, but his tongue 
felt numb. He made a great effort to loosen it ; at length 
he managed to move his lips and murmured : “ Is it you, 
Abel ? I thought you were dead.” 

Count Abel, the true Abel Larinski, was evidently not 
dead. He stood erect, his eyes were terribly wide open, and 
his complexion had never been brighter. It seemed as 
though he had been buried alive and had made his way out. 
He had brought away some mould from his grave ; his hair 
was dusted over with a curious sort of earthy powder, and 
he kept shaking it off at intervals. 

Yet there was nothing wild or alarming in his expression ; 
an ironical, mocking smile, played round his lips. After a 
long silence, he said to Samuel : ‘‘ Yes, it is I. You were 
not expecting me, I suppose'^” 


156 


SAMUEL BROHL AND RARTNER. 


‘‘Are you quite sure that you are not dead?” replied 
Samuel. 

“ Perfectly sure,” answered he, shaking his head again to 
get rid of the dust, which annoyed him. “ Am I disturbing 
you, Samuel Brohl?” he continued. “For your name is 
Samuel Brohl, a pretty name. Why have you assumed 
mine ? Give it me back.” 

“ Not to-day,” replied Samuel in a stilled voice, “ nor to- 
morrow, nor the day after, but after my marriage.” 

Count Abel burst out laughing, which was contrary to his 
habits, and surprised Samuel greatly. Then he exclaimed : 
“ She is going to marry me, her name will be the Countess 
Larinski.” 

Suddenly the door re-opened, and Mademoiselle Antoinette 
Moriaz appeared, dressed in white like a bride, with a wreath 
on her head and a bouquet in her hand. She was coming 
up to Samuel, but the ghost stopped her on the way, saying : 
“ It is not he whom you love, but my story. Don’t you see 
that he is a sham Pole ? His father was a German and kept 
a public-house, where this great man, this hero, was brought 
up. I will tell you — ” 

Samuel laid his hand on the speaker’s mouth and stam- 
mered out: “Please, please say nothing.” 

The apparition paid no attention, but went on speaking : 
“Yes, Samuel Brohl is a hero. For five years he was an old 
woman’s paid lover, and discharged all the duties of his 
calling. This kept hero earned his money. Would you like 
to be called Madame Brohl ?” 

With these words he held out his arms to Mademoiselle 
Moriaz, who fixed her tender and astonished eyes upon him, 
and drawing her to him, kissed her hair and wreath. 

Then Samuel Brohl recovered strength, life, and motion. 
He jumped from his bed, and, clenching his fist, daiTed to- 
wards Abel Larinski to dispute his prize. Suddenly he 


SAMUEL BllOUL AND PARTNER. 


157 


stopped short with a start ; he had heard a sharp chuckling 
laugh, proceeding from the opposite corner of the room. He 
turned and caught sight of his father, wearing a greasy cap 
on his head and wrapped in a dirty caftan, worn threadbare. 
It was Jeremiah Brohl ; all the world was coming back to 
life that night. The little old man went on chuckling, and 
then exclaimed in a sharp, grating voice : “ Schandbuhe ! 
vermaledeiter Schlingel ! ich willd ich zu Brei schlagen r which 
means ; “ You wretch, you young blackguard, I will beat 
you to a jelly 1 ” This was a phrase which Samuel had often 
heard in his childhood ; but accustomed as he might have 
been to these paternal amenities, when he saw his father raise 
his clenched withered hand above his head, he screamed and 
threw himself back to avoid the blow, and. catching his feet in 
the legs of a chair, stumbled and fell violently against a table. 

He opened his eyes and saw no one. He ran to the wim 
dow and threw open the shutters ; the early dawn cast its 
grey light over the room. Thank heaven, there was no one 
there. The vision had been so real that it w^as some time 
before Samuel Brohl could recover himself, and feel sure 
that his nightmare had vanished for ever, that phantoms are 
phantoms, and that graves do not give up their dead. 
When he had arrived at this happy conviction, he spoke to 
the dead man whose troublesome visit had so greatly dis- 
turbed his slumbers, and said haughtily with an air of 
defiance : “ You must submit, my dear Abel, we shall not 
meet again till we meet in the Valley of Jehoshaphat; I saw 
a score of shovels full of earth thrown on you; you are 
dead, I am alive and she is mine.” 

With this, he hastened to pay his bill and quit the Cceiir- 
Volant, promising himself never to enter it again. 

At the same moment, M. Moriaz, who rose early, was 
writing the following letter : 

“ It is all over, my dear friend, I have given in and cannot 


158 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


retract. Do not reproach me for my weakness ; what could 
T do ? When a man has been the most submissive of fathers 
for twenty years, he cannot break his bonds in a day ; I have 
never dabbled in revolutions and am too old to learn now. 
And then who knows if her heart may not have guided her 
aright, so that she may one day prove us all mistaken ? 

“ I must confess that there is some fascination about this 
dreadful man. I only find one fault in him : he has no 
business to exist, a serious fault certainly, but up to now I 
can reproach him with nothing else. 

‘‘ When a battle is lost, it is useless to think of anything 
but beating an orderly retreat. I am sorry to say that 
Count Larinski is furnished with all the necessary docu- 
ments, he has his baptismal register and the certificates of 
his parents’ deaths by him. No objection is to be made on 
this score, and my future son-in-law will not help me to gain 
time. The point to which we must now devote our whole 
attention is the settlement. We cannot take too many pre- 
cautions or tie up everything too safely ; this Pole must have 
his hands thoroughly bound. If you will allow me, I shall 
ask you to come one of these days and confer with me and 
my lawyer, who is yours also. I venture to hope that on 
this point Antoinette will consent to be guided by our 
advice. 

“ I am not in good spirits, dear friend ; but, being born a 
philosopher, I take the evils of life patiently and am going 
to read Le Monde comme il va on la vision de Bahouc, over 
again, to try and persuade myself that if everything is not 
agreeable, it is at least bearable.” 

On the evening of that same day, M. Moriaz received the 
following reply ; 

“ I shall never forgive you. You are a great chemist, I 
allow, but a pitiful father. Your weakness, which deserves 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


159 


another name, is inexcusable. You ought to have resisted 
and held out firmly to the end ; Antoinette would never 
have made up her mind to act contrary to your commands. 
She would have flown into a passion, sulked, and tried to 
touch your feelings by looking like a disconsolate widow, and 
she would have dressed herself in crape. What then? 
What harm would it have done you? Inconsolable Artemi- 
sias are very tiresome, I admit, but you can accustoipOL your- 
self to anything. Ought philosophers, who are indifferent 
in reality to all things, to be at the mercy of a pouting face 
and a black crape dress ? Besides, black is very fashionable 
wear now, even out of mourning. 

“ What do you mean by talking of settlements ! You are 
joking. How can you think of mistrusting a Pole, and 
taking precautions against a hero of antiquity (as the Abb6 
Miollens calls him), a grand and noble soul ? The very idea 
of your mistrusting his disinterestedness would make M. 
Larinski swoon, as he swooned in my drawing-room ; this is 
his plan of action, and a good one too, since it answers. Ho 
settlements, I say ; let there be a communion of goods, and 
leave the issue to Providence ! There is no beauty or merit 
in a folly unless it be complete. Ah, my dear man, Poland 
is charming, is it not ? Very well then, bolt it down whole. 
— I remain your humble servant,*' 


CHAPTER IX. 


The pitiless sentence pronounced by Madame de Lorcy 
annoyed M. Moriaz, but did not discourage him. He felt 
that, whatever she might say, precautions are excellent; 
that though we must bear our ills patiently, we may try to 
alleviate them, that mitigated follies may be preferred to 
complete follies, and a bad cold to an inflammation of the 
lungs which may carry off the sufferer. “ Time and I can 
do anything,^’ said Philip 11. proudly. M. Moriaz said more 
humbly : “ The best corrective to a hazardous marriage which 
cannot be prevented is to protract matters and consult one’s 
lawyer with due deliberation.” His own lawyer, M. Noirot, 
in whom he had the utmost confidence, was from home, 
having been summoned to Italy on important business. He 
would await his return, and till then all should be left in 
suspense. 

In the first conversation M. Moriaz had on this subject 
with his daughter, he found her most reasonable, ready to 
enter into his views and accede to his wishes. She was too 
grateful for his acquiescence not to reward him by a little 
consideration ; and then she was too happy to feel impatient : 
having gained her main point, it was not difficult to give way 
in details. 

‘‘ People will say you have yielded to a whim,” said her 
father. ‘‘ You are not very sensitive to public opinion, I 
am more so ; respect my weakness and cowardice. Let us 
consider appearances and not seem to be in haste or have 


SAMUiJL BtlOHL ANt) PAR^NBB. 


161 


anything to conceal, but let us act with deliberation and 
discretion. There is no one in Paris now ; let us give our 
friends time to return. We will introduce Count Larinski 
to them. Great happiness does not shrink from discussion ; 
your choice will be debated by some, and approved by 
others. M. Larinski can and will please, and the world will 
excuse my resignation, which Madame de Lorcy considers 
a crime. 

“You promised me to combine cheerfulness with resigna- 
tion, but you seem rather melancholy.’’ 

“You cannot require me to brim over with joy.” 

“Will you assure me that you have at least made a 
settled decision, and have no idea of retracting ? ” 

“ I promise you that.” 

“Well, we will respect your weakness,” replied she, and 
consented to all he prop(7sed. 

It was agreed that the marriage should take place in the 
course of the winter, and that two months should elapse be- 
fore proceeding to the first formalities. M. Moriaz undertook 
to reconcile Samuel Brohl to this arrangement, wdiich the 
latter did not relish, though he took care not to betray this. 
He told M. Moriaz that he was still in the first intoxication 
of his bliss, and not sorry to have time to come to himself ; 
but he vowed privately to find some artifice for shortening 
these delays and hastening the mamage. He was afraid 
of accidents, unforeseen circumstances, storms, squalls, hail 
and mildew, whatever can damage or destroy a crop ; he 
longed to reap his and have it safely stored in his garner. 

Meanwhile, as his supplies began to run short, he wrote a 
majestic but confidential letter to his old friend, Herr 
Guldenthal, which had the greatest effect. Herr Guldenthal 
looked on a good match as a far better security than a bad 
gun. Besides, he had been agreeably surprised by the 
punctual repayment of his loan, both capital and interest. 

L 


162 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PAlRTNER. 


He was delighted to see such an excellent client return, and 
hastened to advance at twenty per cent all the money he 
wanted, and even more. 

A month rolled peacefully by, during which Samuel 
Brohl came to Cormeilles twice or thrice a week. There 
he secured the good graces of the whole establishment, down 
to the gardener, the lodge-keeper and the Angora cat who 
had received him on his first visit. This pretty white silky- 
haired puss had conceived a deplorable sympathy for 
Samuel Brohl ; perhaps she had recognised in him a feline 
disposition. She made the most flattering advances to him, 
and liked to rub herself against him, to jump on his knees 
and lie in his lap. On the other hand. Mademoiselle 
Moriaz’s great tan spaniel disliked the new-comer and 
looked askance at him ; when Samuel tried to caress him, 
he gave a low growl and showed* his teeth, which procured 
him some sharp correction from his mistress. Dogs are 
born policemen; they have a wonderful power of divina- 
tion and an instinctive hatred of any people not thoroughly 
respectable, whose passports are not correct or who borrow 
the passports of others. As to Mademoiselle Moiseney, who 
had not the keen scent of a spaniel, she was in raptures with 
this noble, heroic, and incomparable Count Larinski. In a 
tete-^-t^te he had had with her, he had shown so much re- 
spect for her character, such admiration for her natural and 
acquired gifts, that she had been moved to tears ; for the 
first time she felt herself understood. She had been still 
more moved by his requesting her, as a favour, never to 
leave Mademoiselle Moriaz, and to consider the house which 
would one day be his as her own. “ What a man ! ” cried she, 
with the same firm conviction as Mademoiselle Galet. 

Samuel BroliTs chief study was to ingratiate himself with 
M. Moriaz, whose second thoughts he feared. He was in 
some measure successful, disarming at least his ill will by 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


163 


the irreproachable correctness of his manners, the reserve of 
his language, and his absolute want of curiosity about every- 
thing immediately or remotely connected with his own per- 
sonal interests. What could have made Madame de Lorcy 
suspect Samuel Brohl of being an appraiser and casting his 
eyes roimd like one? If he had forgotten himself at 
Maisons, he never forgot himself at Cormeilles. What were 
the things of the world to him ? He was floating above it, 
heaven had thrown wide her gates ; the happy are too much 
absorbed in their ecstacy to look into details and draw up an 
inventory of their paradise. 

But Samuel’s ecstacy did not prevent him from making 
himself agreeable or useful on all occasions to M. Moriaz. 
He often asked leave to accompany him to his laboratory. 
M. Moriaz flattered himself that he had discovered a new 
element, to which he attributed some very curious properties. 
Since his return, he had been engaged in delicate experi- 
ments which were not always successful : his movements 
were awkward, and he had not full use of his stiffening 
fingers ; sometimes he broke everything he touched. 
Samuel offered to assist him in a manipulation requiring a 
good deal of skill ; he had the long, supple, slender fingers of 
a conjuror, and the operation proved successful beyond 
expectation. 

M. Moriaz showed some self-knowledge when he owned to 
being sensitive to the opinions of others ; it was his peculiar 
weakness, and we can scarcely blame him for it. It is not 
easy for a philosopher to regulate his conduct with reference 
to public opinion ; it is a power dangerous to despise, but 
equally dangerous in its tyrannical rule. Public opinion is 
often mistaken, but there is almost always a grain of sense 
in its absurdities, and a foundation 0/ justice in its injustice. 
The philosopher ought to be able to shut himself up in his 
cell and defend the proud solitude of his conscience from the 


164 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


world ; but unfortunately prolonged solitude sometimes 
warps the mind, and the solitary system has turned men 
mad ; for great as man may be, the individual man is 
insignificant ! 

M. Moriaz was the more sensitive to public opinion, 
because in his eyes it took tangible form ; to him it was 
embodied under the features of a woman of fifty, having 
some remains of beauty, a dry-toned voice and black eye- 
brows ready to frown ; the eyebrows were Madame de 
Lorcy’s. He had acquired a habit of doing nothing without 
asking himself : ‘‘ What will Madame de Lorcy, this great 
authority on the proprieties, think He did not deny that 
the authority had prejudices ; but in everything unconnected 
with chemistry, he respected her decisions and dreaded her 
censure ; when thoae black eyebrows frowned, his conscience 
was uneasy. 

Men who work hard like to feel their mind at ease, and if 
they have a thorn in their foot, long to pull it out or forget 
all about it. M. Moriaz tried to persuade himself that, all 
things considered. Count Larinski was a very suitable and 
presentable son-in-law, that he might feel easy as to his 
daughter’s future, and occupy himself quietly in letting a 
little more light into his laboratory. 

Although Mademoiselle Moiseney’s raving enthusiasm 
jarred on his nerves, he was inclined to think there was some 
good in Poland, and submitted quietly to his thorn in the 
flesh ; but so long as Madame de Lorcy sulked, he could not 
feel quite reassured, and Madame de Lorcy persisted in sulk- 
ing. He had written to her again, and called twice without 
finding her in ; she had neither replied nor returned his 
calls. 

Women do not like ^ to own themselves defeated. Madame 
de Lorcy was furious at having been taken in by Count 
Larinski, and retracting all the concessions she had made, 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER, 


165 


decided in her animosity that a swooning man could be 
nothing but an adventurer. She had disputes on the subject 
with M. Langis, who maintained that M. Larinski was a 
great hypocrite, but might possibly be a real count ; he had 
met some on his travels who cheated at cards and pocketed 
insults. Their parts were reversed, and Madame de Lorcy 
in her turn called him a simpleton. 

She had written to Vienna in hopes of obtaining fresh 
information, but could learn nothing that would satisfy her. 
She did not lose courage ; she knew that M. Moriaz would 
find it hard to dispense with her approbation, and made up 
her mind to bide her time for making a decisive attack. 
Meanwhile she amused herself with fidgetting him by her 
silence and annoying him by her prolonged sulks. 

To put an end to them M. Moriaz said one day to his 
daughter : ‘‘ Madame de Lorcy is obdurate, and it distresses 
me. I am afraid you may liave let some word drop that has 
affronted her ; I should be much obliged if you will go and 
see her and try to appease her.’^ 

It is not a very agreeable mission,’’ she observed ; “ but 
I can refuse you nothing, and will go to Maisons to-morrow.” 

At the moment when this conversation was taking place, 
Madame de Lorcy, who was spending the day in Paris, had 
just entered the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. Many people had 
been attracted thither by an exhibition of the works of a 
celebrated artist who had recently died. Madame de Lorcy 
was flitting about, when she distinguished in the crowd a 
little woman of upwards of sixty-five, with a flat nose and 
small grey eyes sparkling with malice and impudence. 
Pretentiously, with her chin in the air and eye-glass in hand, 
she was examining all the pictures critically and con- 
temptuously. 

“ Why, yes, it really is the Princess Gulof,” said Madame 
de Lorcy to herself, and turned aAvay to escape recognition. 


166 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


Three years befDre, during the bathing season at Ostend, she 
had made acquaintance with the princess, and did not care 
to renew it. The haughty capricious Russian, whom she 
had first met casually at a table 'd’hote, a meeting that had 
ripened into an acquaintance, had left no very pleasing 
impression. 

Princess Gulof was the wife of a governor-general, whom 
she had married as her second husband after a long widow- 
hood. He did not see her often, only three or four times a 
year, but to make up for this, they kept up a most regular 
correspondence from one end of Europe to the other ; the 
prince did nothing without taking his wife’s advice, which 
was excellent. During the first years of their married life, 
he had committed the mistake of being really in love with 
her ; for there is a kind of spicy, impish ugliness which can 
inspire the greatest passion. The princess considered this 
behaviour to be in the very worst taste, and had no rest or 
comfort till she supplied Dimitri Paulovitch with a mistress 
and brought him to reason. 

From that day forward, perfect harmony had reigned 
between the husband and wife, separated by the length of 
Europe and united by the post. She had long had strong 
passions and never bridled them. Morality she looked upon 
as a pure convention, like the rules of whist or baccarat, nor 
did she disguise her opinions, having a habit of saying what- 
ever she thought. Her passions were indeed but violent 
caprices, stormy ciufiosity which she longed to gratify. 

She made voyages of discovery and increased her ex- 
perience ; she had met with many deceptions, and come to 
the conclusion that man is not worth much. She passed 
rapidly, nay, suddenly, from one experience to another; 
she did not wait to finish the book before throwing it away, 
the first chapter was often enough for her ; and as to pre- 
faces, she never read them. Yet a more lasting caprice, 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


167 


which had become a cherished habit, had seized her late in 
life ; for nearly five years she flattered herself that she had 
found what she sought. Alas, for the first time, she had 
been herself deserted in turn before her fancy was exhausted. 
This desertion had wounded her pride deeply, she had con- 
ceived an implacable hatred for the faithless one and then 
ended by forgetting him. On turning her sixtieth year, she 
had suddenly calmed down, and ceased to enjoy any but 
mental pleasures. She had plunged into natural science and 
made dissections, one way perhaps of avenging herself. 
Her ideas were very advanced; she professed the most 
radical evolutionist views, and considered it proved that 
man is descended from the ape, the ape from the monad and 
the Bathybius Haeckelii. She had a profound contempt for 
all who ventured to doubt this, and despised all the world 
for that matter. She did not give way to melancholy ; 
dissecting and despising everything affords one a species of 
happiness. 

During their mutual stay at Ostend, Madame de Lorcy 
had gained the Princess Gulofs good graces by nursing with 
wonderful skill her lap-dog, Moufiiard, whose paw had been 
broken by some clumsy person. The princess doted on 
Moufflard, though she was now and then tempted to open 
him in order to learn what was inside. She felt grateful to 
Madame de Lorcy for her sympathy and care, and showed 
her every attention. Madame de Lorcy had responded duly 
to her advances, but did not care much for the society of 
this old woman, who never ceased chattering and enjoyed 
relating the secret history of all the European capitals ; 
Madame de Lorcy was soon tired of her cosmopolitan gossip 
and physiology, and thought her both cynical and wicked. 

When she met her in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, her first 
impulse was to avoid her, but she suddenly changed her 
mind. J'or some weeks she had been possessed by a fixed 


168 


SAMUfiL BROHL Ain> PARTKBB. 


idea, on which she brought everything to bear ; a sudden 
inspiration came to her, and seemed sent direct from heaven. 
“ The Princess Gulof,’’ said she to herself, ‘‘ has spent her 
life in travelling about the world ; her real home is a well- 
padded railway carriage ; there is not a city where she has 
not lived, or a soul that she does not know, she has 
been everywhere; might she not happen to know Count 
Larinski*?” 

Madame de Lorcy retraced her steps, threaded the crowd, 
made her way up to the princess, and plucking her by the 
sleeve, said : “So you are here, princess ! How is Mouf- 
flardr^ 

The princess gave her a side glance, and taking her hand 
between her finger and thumb, with no more ceremony than 
if they had parted the day before, said : “ Moufilard is very 
bad, my dear. He died of indigestion two months ago.” 

“ And have you been mourning over him ? ” 

“ I am still inconsolable.” 

“ Well, princess, I will undertake to console you. I have 
a lap-dog not six months old ; you could not find a more 
charming one, or one with a shorter muzzle or whiter and 
softer hair. I am very practical, as you know, and only 
care for large dogs that are of some use. Will you accept 
Moufilard the Second? but you will have to come and 
fetch him, and so give me the pleasure of seeing you at 
Maisons.” 

The princess replied that she was on her way to England, 
and only passing through Paris, that she had but a few 
hours, and then within two minutes promised Madame de 
Lorcy to come and see her the following afternoon. 

Next day, Madame de Lorcy saw the Princess Gulof enter 
her drawing-room. The first topic of conversation was the 
lap-dog, who was pronounced charming and worthy to 
succeed Moufilard the First. Madame de Lorcy chatted for 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


169 


some time while waiting her opportunity, and then ex- 
claimed : “By the way, princess, you know everything and 
are such a cosmopolitan, have you ever heard of a mysterious 
personage called Count Abel Larinski ? ” 

“Not that I know of, my dear, though the name does not 
seem quite unfamiliar.” 

“ Search your memory, you must have come across him 
somewhere, you who have been all over the ” 

“ Habitable world,” she broke in ; “ but that does not in- 
clude Siberia, from my point of view, and your Larinski was 
sent there, if I am not mistaken.” 

“Would that he had been! Perhaps there might have 
been some idea of treating the father, of whom you are 
speaking, to this little trip ; but unluckily he took the pre' 
caution of emigrating to America. The worst of America 
is that people can return from it ; and the son, my Larinski, 
has come back, to my sorrow.” 

“ How has he injured youl” asked the princess, pulling 
the ears of the lap-dog, who was asleep on her knee. 

“ T used to talk to you at Ostend about my god-daughter, 
Mademoiselle Moriaz, a charming creature. I thought of 
marrying her to my nephew, M. Langis, an accomplished 
young man. This Count Abel Larinski very inconveniently 
turned up and cast a glamour over the child, and he is going 
to marry her.” 

“ How distressing I Is he handsome 1*’ 

“ That is really his only merit.” 

“ It is quite sufficient,” replied the princess, and her grey 
eye sparkled. “ The one thing clear about a man is his 
looks, the rest is a matter of discussion.” 

“ Allow me to consider things from a more plebeian point 
of view,” returned Madame de Lorcy. “If I must tell 
you what I think, I suspect Count Larinski of being 
neither a real Larinski, nor a real count; I would lay 


170 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


my life that all the Larinskis are dead, and that this man 
is some sharper.’^ 

“ I shall begin to be interested in the case,’^ replied the 
princess. “ Don’t abase sharpers ; I have known some, and 
they are one of the most curious varieties of the human 
race. Let your godchild marry hers, it will give a little 
piquancy to her life ; this is such a monotonous world.” 

“ Many thanks ; but my god-child was not born to marry 
a sharper. I detest this Larinski, and have sworn to play 
him some trick.” 

‘‘Don’t excite yourself, my dear. What colour are his eyes?” 

“As green as a cat’s or an owl’s.” 

Princess Gulofs eyes sparkled again, and she exclaimed : 
“An adventurer with green eyes ! It is a splendid match, 
and you must be hard to please.” 

“ I am vexed with you, princess,” returned Madame de 
Lorcy. “I had counted on your assisting me with your 
intelligence, your incomparable penetration and practised 
eye, to unmask this Pole, and discover some fatal vice in 
him. Now do be kind for once, and allow me to introduce 
him to you.” 

“As I told you, I am only passing through Paris,” replied 
the princeSiS, “ and I am expected in England. Besides, you 
pay too great a compliment to my incomparable penetration. 
I declare that I know nothing about Larinskis, so do not 
think of introducing yours. I am a good-natured woman, 
and have often been taken in, but I don’t complain. The 
l)est features in my past life are a certain number of agree- 
able delusions, and men who understood the art of lying. I 
have made up my mind to base my opinion on the outside 
labels, and ask no one to show me the bottom of his sack, I 
have discovered long since that sacks have no bottoms. Let 
your god-daughter have her own way ; if she is mistaken, it 
is because she chooses to be so, and knows better than yon 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


171 


what will suit her. And after all, what can it signify if 
there is one unhappy marriage the more in the world ! 
Besides, it is only fools who are miserable and stand stupidly 
before a closed gate, others pass by and make a hole through 
the hedge. Marriage, my dear, is a threadbare institution. 
Ten years hence, it will have ceased to exist, all women 
will be free, and take their husbands on trial. Ten years 
hence. Countess Larinski will be an emancipated woman. 
Let her serve her time of bondage, she will enjoy her liberty 
all the more.” 

As the Princess Gulof ended this declaration of her 
principles, the door opened, and Mademoiselle Moriaz en- 
tered. The future Countess Larinski kept her promise to 
her father, whatever it cost her. Madame de Lorcy took 
care to receive her kindly ; she' went to meet her, stretched 
out both hands, and kissed her on both cheeks, reproaching 
her affectionately for coming so seldom ; then she introduced 
her to the princess, who said : “ Come here, my pretty one, 
and let me look at you ; I am told you are charming.” 

When Antoinette came up to her, the princess scrutinised 
her closely with her gimblet eyes, examining her from head 
to foot, and running over all her points, as if she had been a 
Norman farmer making a purchase at a cattle-fair. The 
result of the examination was favourable ; the princess ex- 
claimed : She is really very pretty ! ” and went on to say 
how like Mademoiselle Moriaz was to a certain person who 
had played a certain pai*t in a certain adventure, which she 
undertook to relate. 

She had scarcely ended this story when she began an- 
other. Madame de Lorcy was on thorns, knowing by 
experience that Princess Gulofs stories were generally of a 
doubtful character, little fitted for maiden ears. She looked 
anxiously at Antoinette, and when she felt that some parti- 
cularly objectionable passage was coming, was seized with a 


172 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


violent fit of coughing. The princess, understanding her 
meaning, endeavoured to veil all improprieties, but the veil 
was generally very transparent. Then Madame de Lorcy 
began to cough again, till the princess lost all patience, and 
broke off abruptly with the words : “ Et cetera, et cetera, et 
cetera, — and so the story ends.’^ 

Mademoiselle Moriaz listened and looked in astonishment, 
not understanding the meaning of these fits of coughing and 
interruptions, and never guessing at what was hid beneath : 
“ Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.” She thought the Princess 
Gulof very odd, and even suspected that her brain was 
slightly touched ; but she was grateful to her for being there 
to save her from a tete-^-tete with Madame de Lorcy, and 
thus sparing her disagreeable explanations and an unpleasant 
discussion. 

For nearly an hour she sat motionless in her’ chair, watch- 
ing with a sort of stupor the turning of the sails of this 
wordy wind-mill which never cared to rest, and moved its 
clapper noisily. After talking ill of her neighbours, includ- 
ing emperors and grand-dukes^ and multiplying her et ceteras, 
the Princess Gulof suddenly turned to physiology; this 
science, of which she had made herself mistress, seemed to 
her the clue to everything, the alpha and omega of human 
life. These materialist doctrines she proceeded to expound 
with a frankness of phrase that startled Mademoiselle 
Moriaz’s delicate ears. From being astonished, she became 
rather scandalised, and thinking that her visit had been long- 
enough, beat a retreat, without any effort on Madame de 
Lorcy’s part to detain her. 

On reaching Cormeilles, her carriage met a young man on 
horseback, riding with his head bent down, and allowing his 
steed to choose his own pace. The young man started, 
when a soprano voice, which he thought the sweetest music 
in the world, cried : Where are you going, Camille ? ” 


SAMUEL BEOHL AND PABTNER. 


173 


He bent over his horse^s neck, took off his hat, and an- 
swered : ‘‘To Maisons.” 

“DonT go there, there is some horrid talk going on/’ 
And Mademoiselle Moriaz added in an authoritative voice : 
“You cannot pass, you are my prisoner.” 

She obliged him to turn back; and, ten minutes after, 
she had left the carriage, and he had alighted from his 
horse, and they were sitting side by side on a garden bench. 

A few days before, M. Langis had met M. Moriaz, who 
had complained bitterly of his having also deserted him and 
extorted a promise that he would come to see him. This 
promise he had just fulfilled. Had he chosen his time well ? 
He had been both glad and sorry to find that Mademoiselle 
Moriaz was not there. Man, especially a man in love, is a 
mass of contradictions. For the same reason he blessed and 
cursed the fate which had just thrown him into Antoinette’s 
way. For some moments, he felt taken aback, but soon re- 
gained his composure, having formed the generous resolution 
of seeming natural, and playing his part of friend and brother 
to the end. He had carried it out so well at St. Moritz that 
Antoinette thought him cured of the passing fancy which he 
had had for her, and which she had never regarded in a 
serious light. 

“ Last time I saw you,” said she, “ you let a word slip 
which greatly pained me, but I wish to believe that you did 
not intend it.” 

“ I am very gu'lty,” replied he, “ and I acknowledge my 
fault. I was disrespectful to your idol.” 

“ Fortunately my idol was not aw^are of it, and had he 
been, I should have appeased him by saying : ‘ Excuse this 
young man, he does not always know what he is saying.’ ” 

“ That is often the case, but I have always thought it a 
very queer thing for a man to faint. We must be on our 
guard against prejudices ; every country has its own ways, 


174 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


and since you like Poland, I will endeavour to see its good 
side.’^ 

‘‘ That is the way to speak. I mean to reconcile you to 
Count Larinski this very day ; stay and dine with us, he will 
be here directly ; the first duty of all whom I like, is to like 
one another.” . 

M. Langis began by refusing the invitation most decidedly, 
but Antoinette insisted, and he ended by bowing his acqui- 
escence. Youth has a zest for suffering. 

As, with his hat on one side, he traced some figures on the 
sand with a switch he had picked up, he resumed, in an easy 
tone : ‘‘I wish M. Larinski no ill, but you will allow that 1 
should be justified in hating him cordially, for it is only two 
years, if I am not mistaken, since I had the honour of asking 
for your hand. Do you remember ? ” 

■‘Perfectly,” replied she, fixing her clear eyes upon him; 
“ but I must confess that this fancy of yours never seemed 
to me either very reasonable, or much in earnest.” 

“You are mistaken ; I can assure you that your refusal 
plunged me into despair for forty-eight hours, the real sort 
of despair which prevents a man from eating, drinking, or 
sleeping, and suggests nothing but suicide.” 

“And at the end of forty-eight hours you had recovered?” 

“Well, that is the natural ending, and philosophers make 
it the beginning. I hesitated a long time before I asked for 
your hand, saying to myself : ‘If she refuses me, I shall 
not be able to see her again.’ Now that I see you again, it 
is all right.” 

“ And when are you going to marry ? ” 

“I? Never. I shall die a bachelor. A man who has 
failed to marry Mademoiselle Moriaz can never marry. He 
affects the inconsolable.” 

“And from the moment when it ceases to prevent his 
eating, drinking, and sleeping^ — ” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


175 


“ He becomes interesting, without suffering from the con- 
sequences,” he returned, gaily. Then, glancing around, he 
said : ‘‘It seems to me as if you had altered this terrace, put 
what was on the right on the left, done away with plantations 
and cut down trees ; I donT remember all this.” 

“ You are quite mistaken ; nothing has been altered, your 
memory is at fault. What, don’t you recognise this terrace, 
the scene of so many exploits ? I was a perfect tyrant ancl 
made you do whatever I liked. You rebelled now and then, 
but on the whole the slave worshipped his chains. Where 
are your eyes 1 Why, look, there is the sycamore which you 
once climbed to get out of my way, because I wanted to 
dress you up as a girl, you said, and such a transformation 
was not to your mind. This is the avenue in which we 
used to play at ball, and here is the hornbeam hedge and 
the clumps of shrubs in which we used to play hide and seek.” 

“So we did,” he replied. “ When I was away in Hungary, 
I made it into a song and even set it to music.” 

“Sing it to me.” 

“ You would laugh at me, I have no voice ; but I will re- 
cite it to you. The verses are poor, I am no Academician. 
Oh, but when I address you so familiarly in this song, will it 
vex you 1 ” 

“ I have determined that nothing shall vex me.” 

“ Listen to my poor lines,” said be, “ and tell me whether 
they are not full of sentiment.” 

And lowering his voice, without daring to look up, he 
repeated the two following stanzas : 

**Once in the woods and meadows green 
In happy days gone by, 

" We played onr games of hide and seek 

On lawns ’neath hazels high. 

Those days are past, my Antoinette, 

But still I ask, can you forget ? 


176 


SAMUEL BBOHL AND PABTNER. 


“Once in the woods and meadows green 
As happily we played, 

The place where you would choose to hide 
Your secret ne’er betrayed. 

So well you hid yourself away, 

I’ve never found you to this day.** 

“ It is a pretty song,’* said she ; “ but untrue, for here we 
are both on one seat.” 

She was so innocent of the pain she gave and the torture 
she was inflicting, that he could neither accuse her nor coin- 
plain, but he asked himself whether the best woman’s heart 
is free from a germ of cruelty and unconscious ferocity. The 
tears started to his eyes and were ready to flow ; he stooped 
down and examined a handsome stag-beetle that was running 
across the gravel path, on some important errand. When 
M. Langis raised his head, his eyes were dry, his face calm and 
smiling. 

“ Certainly,” resumed he, “ I must have seemed most 
absurd in your eyes two years ago. The idea of your play- 
fellow, little Camille, aspiring to become your husband. 
What a good joke it was ! ” 

“ Not at all,” answered she ; ‘‘ but I felt at once that it 
was a mistake. Little Camilles have quick and lively imagin- 
ations, and are easily mistaken in their feelings. Friend- 
ship and love are so different I I told Mademoisellov 
Moiseney once that a woman ought never to marry an 
intimate friend, or she loses him, and it is well to keep one’s 
friends.” 

“ Pooh ! what will you do with yours now ? I find my 
part a very modest and insignificant one. Raise the trap- 
door, and I will vanish.” 

“ That is bad advice, I shall not raise the trap-door. We 
always stand in need of our friends. I can fancy cases in 
which the happiest of women might find herself embarrassed. 


SAMUEL' BROHL AND PARTNER. 


177 


She may require information, advice or assistance without 
being able to apply to her husband, for husbands cannot do 
everything. If I am ever in such a plight, I shall apply to 
you, Camille.” 

“ A bargain ! ” cried he ; “I would come from the 
furthest parts of Transylvania, if necessary, to assist yQu.” 

And he held out his right hand, which she took and shook 
thrice. 

At that moment, they heard the sound of a footstep, im- 
mediately recognised by Mademoiselle Moriaz, and Count 
Larinski appeared, coming from the path which led by the 
house. Antoinette went to meet him and led him forward by 
the end of his glove, which he had just removed and was 
holding in his hand. 

“ Gentlemen,” said she, ‘‘ I need not introduce you, for you 
know each other already.” 

Perhaps they knew rather too much of each other, which 
is worse than knowing nothing. Samuel Brohl, an expert 
in the art of concealing his feelings, endeavoured to smile, 
but the smile proved a grimace^ so great was his vexatibn 
on finding the ground occupied by a man whose face he 
especially disliked. M. Langis, on his side, was forced to 
exercise almost superhuman power over his muscles to make 
Count Larinski a quasi-courteous inclination of the head, 
after which they sat down, one to look at the sky, the 
other to attempt to find his beetle, which had disappeared. 

Mademoiselle Moriaz took a great deal of pains to break 
the ice, but it was all in vain, the conversation languished and 
was coiist^antly dropping. “ Decidedly there must be some 
coldness between them,” thought she, ‘‘ they do not assimi- 
late, they are too unlike.” She observed the two men alter- 
nately ; the one with a slender, supple figure and fine 
moustache, a fair-haired man who did not look his age and 
whose fresh young face gave no clue to his energetic will 


178 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


and strength both of mind and muscle ; the other broad- 
shouldered, with a massive head and deep, feverish, 
harassed, romantic eyes, betraying a life of struggles and 
suffering. “ This is my romance, of which I only know the 
first page,’’ thought Antoinette ; the other is a chapter of 
my youth, which I shall always enjoy reading again. But 
why do* they keep looking at each other like two china dogs ? 
Willingly, or unwillingly, they must end by agreeing and 
liking each other.” 

It is difficult to make two men who dislike each other 
converse, it is easier to separate them, as M. Moriaz did. 
When he made his appearance at the end of the terrace, M. 
Langis rose to join him, and Antoinette was left alone with 
Samuel Brohl, who said brusquely : ‘‘Does M. Langis mean 
to stay here for ever ” 

“ Why,” answered she, “he has only just come 1” 

“ And will you send him away soon V 

“ I had so little intention of sending him away that i 
asked him to stay dinner, on purpose that you might learn to 
kiiQw him better.” 

“I am much obliged by your kind intentions ; but I don’t 
like M. Langis.” 

“ What fault can you find with him f’ 

“I have met him now and then at Madame de Lorcy’s, 
and he has always treated me with dubious politeness. I 
suspect him of being my enemy.” 

“ A mere fancy ! M. Langis is the friend of my child- 
hood, and 1 have told him that it is his duty to like those 
whom I like.” 

“ I mistrust the friends of your childhood,” returned he, 
growing warm. “ I should not be surprised if this stripling 
were in love with you.” 

“ Ah, you ought to have heard what he said just now. 
This stripling was reminding me how he asked for my hand 


SAMUEL EROHL AND PARTNER. 


179 


two years ago, and declaring that forty-eight hours had 
sufficed to console him for my refusal.’^ 

I did not know that the case was so serious, or the indi- 
vidual so dangerous. Shall you really keep M. Langis to 
dinner ? ’’ 

I have invited him ; can I draw back T 
“Very well, I will vacate the field, he exclaimed, rising. 
She looked at him and was struck dumb with astonish- 
ment at the change in his countenance. His contracted eye- 
brows formed an acute angle, and he looked hard, harsh, and 
evil. This was a Larinski she had never yet seen, or rather 
Samuel Brohl, who had just shown himself, having appeared 
as suddenly on the scene as a Jack in the box. She could 
not take her eyes oft' him, and he perceived the eflect he 
had produced. Samuel Brohl popped back at once into his 
box, the lid closed, and it was a true Pole who said to 
Mademoiselle Moriaz in a grave, melancholy, res})cctful 
tone : “Forgive me, I cannot always control my feelings.’^ 

“ Well,” said she, “you will stay, won’t you T 
“ Impossible,” replied he ; “I should make myself dis- 
agreeable, and annoy you.” 

She pressed him, and he met her entreaties with a polite 
but firm resistance. She was much distressed. For the last 
month her heart had been expanding in the sunshine of joy ; 
a flowering almond is not happy when it feels itself suddenly 
cht by the sharp north-easter which strips it of its blossoms ; 
it shivers and begins to feel suspicions of the spring. 

Mademoiselle Moriaz accompanied Samuel Brohl to the 
gate. 

“ Good-bye,” said she. “ When shall I see you again T 
“To-morrow, the day after to-morrow, I don’t know when.” 
“ Don’t you really know T 

He saw that her eyes were filled with tears, and kissing 
her hand tenderly, said, with a smile which consoled her: 


180 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


‘‘ This is the first time we have had a dispute ; I may, 
perhaps, be in the wrong, but if I were a woman, I don’t 
think I should care to marry a man who was always in the 
right.” 

After these words, he assured himself again that her eyes 
were wet, and then took his departure, charmed to have as- 
certained the extent of his influence over her. 

When she rejoined M. Langis, he asked whether he had 
been so unlucky as to drive away Count Larinski, adding that 
he should be extremely sorry if such were the case. 

‘‘ Don’t distress yourself,” was her answer, “ he came on 
purpose to let me know that he had an engagement this 
evening.” 

The dinner was not over lively. Mademoiselle Moiseney 
nursed a grudge against M. Langis, she could not forgive him 
for having made fun of her more than once, w’^hich, in her 
eyes, was sheer blasphemy. M. Moriaz was delighted to have 
his dear Camille with him again, but he was asking himself 
mournfully why this young man was not to be his son-in-law. 
Antoinette had occasional fits of absence, though she showed 
Camille much kindness. Love had gained the mastery over 
her generous soul, and it could persuade her to be imprudent; 
but had no power to make her unjust. 

At nine o’clock, M. Langis vaulted into his saddle and was 
off. As he rode along, he felt more than once as if his heart 
w'ould break ; then he dug his spurs into his horse’s flanks, 
and it flew through the air and left space behind. It might 
have been thought that he had laid a wager to outstrip his 
sorrow, or perhaps he hoped that the wind, through which 
he flew, might bear away his thoughts with the shadows 
of night. 

Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Moriaz, leaning on the window- 
sill, was meditating on Count Larinski’s outburst as she gazed 
upon the stars ; the sky was unclouded, save for one tiny 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


181 


black fleck above Mont-Valerien. Mademoiselle Moriaz felt 
heavy at heart, but she had an implicit confidence that all 
would come right on the morrow. What is one black spot on 
the expanse of a starlit sky ! 


CHAPTER X. 

There once lived a handsome Athenian, called Hippoclides, 
a true representative of his race and country ; possibly 
Aristophanes was thinking of him when he invented his re- 
public of birds. Hippoclides was a bird turned man ; his 
hand, his foot, his heart and his brain were all light. His 
soul lay in his heels, he spent his life in dancing, or rather, 
danced it away. He became enamoured of the daughter of 
Clisthenes, tyrant of Sicyon, who was a grave man. He be- 
came grave himself, put on a severe countenance, and for a 
whole year forbore to laugh or sin against the proprieties, so 
that he might have passed for the most Spartan of Spartans. 
Such meritorious exertions were about to be rewarded, when 
unfortunately a great feast was given one night, and Hip- 
poclides took rather more wine than was good for him. He 
leaped suddenly on the table, and, to the astonishment of 
Clisthenes and the other spectators, began to dance first 
on his feet, then on his hands and head. Whereupon 
Clisthenes said : ‘‘ Hippoclides, you can never be my son-in- 
law, your dance has put an end to your marriage.” To 
which the handsome Athenian replied : What cares 
Hippoclides ? ” and went on dancing. Thus it is ; springs, 
long bent, fly back, and sooner or later natiire asserts 
herself. 


182 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


Things did not fall out at Cormeilles as they did at Sicyon; 
fathers are no longer tyrants to break off marriages ; it is the 
princesses who do as they please. Nor was there much resem- 
blance between Samuel Brohl and Hippoclidfes : the one was 
a sparrow, the other belonged to the rapacious and voracious 
class of birds of prey, he did not care to dance, and pos- 
sessed the gravity befitting all animals who live by the 
chase. The only point in common between him and 
Hippoclides was, that when once certain of being loved and 
wedded, he would cease to lay any restraint on his natural 
disposition ; the fierceness of his appetite and will had been 
suddenly revealed, and Mademoiselle Moriaz had caught 
sight of his hooked beak. «• 

Yet in all that Samuel Brohl did, even down to his out- 
bursts, there was some little calculation and system. He 
had undoubtedly been much vexed to find M. Camille Langis 
at Cormeilles ; he had possibly private and most personal 
reasons for disliking him. Still, in case of need, he could 
command his temper, feelings, and animosities, and when he 
became peevish, it was because it suited his purpose. 

He was eager to enter into possession, to feel his bliss 
secured against all risks ; delays and precautions displeased 
and irritated him. He suspected M. Moriaz of wishing to 
gain time and draw up a formal contract with the aid of his 
lawyer to bind Count Larinski^s hands. He was bent on seiz- 
ing the first opportunity of showing himself suspicious and 
sensitive, in the hope that Mademoiselle Moriaz might take 
alarm and say to her father: “I intend to be married in three 
weeks without waiting for the settlement.” The opportunity 
had come, and Samuel Brohl had taken care not to miss it. 

The next day he received the following note : 

“ You have distressed me very, very much. So soon ! — 
I spent a miserable evening and hardly slept all night I 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


183 


have thought over our discussion or dispute and trievl to 
persuade myself that I was in the wrong ; I have not suc- 
ceeded in this, any more than in understanding you. Oh 
how your suspicions surprise me ! It is so easy to have faith 
when we love. Write me word at once that you have been 
thinking it over too and have seen your fault. I don’t re- 
quire you to do penance and sit in sackcloth and ashes, but 
I condemn you to love me more to-day than you did yester- 
day, and more to-morrow than to-day. On this condition, I 
will pass over your fit of ill-temper and never mention it 
again. Shall this be a bargain ? Ever yours.” 

Samuel Brohl was surprised by receiving another note at 
the same moment, to this effect : 

“My dear Count,— I cannot account for your proceed- 
ings ; you might be dead for all I know. I fancied I 
had some claim on your attention, and that you would have 
come at once to announce the great event yourself and ask 
for my congratulations. Pray come and dine at Maisons to- 
night to meet the Abbe Miollens, who is longing to embrace 
you ; you know that he studies men in Horace, and prefers 
you to them all. 

“ Don’t send any answer, but come, or I shall have a 
lasting quarrel with you.” 

Samuel Brohl replied as follows to Mademoiselle Moriaz : 

“You may be sure that I have suffered more than your- 
self. Forgive me; those who have gone through a great deal 
often require forgiveness. My imagination often takes 
alarm. You say that those who love have faith. Great and 
unexpected joys make my heart suspicious ; I have been 
boding ill for some time past. After attempting to fly from 
my happiness, I tremble lest it should escape me ; it seems 
too good to be anything but a dream. To be loved by you ! 


184 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


— I feel afraid ; each night I ask myself, will she love me 
to-morrow ? Perhaps a secret remorse is mingled with my 
anxiety. I have often been tortured by my sensitive pride ; 
you blame me for it, and I shall try to cure myself, but 
it is not to be cured in a day. During these long months of 
suspense, I shall be plagued by more than one suspicion, 
more than one evil thought. I promise to be silent and keep 
them to myself. 

‘‘ The punishment you inflict on me is to love you more 
to-day than I did yesterday ; you must know that is im- 
possible. I will punish myself in a different way. Madame 
de Lorcy has asked me to dinner. I suspect her of not 
being over well-disposed towards me, and think her rather 
unsympathetic and unable to understand those follies of the 
heart which are true wisdom. I will accept her invitation 
and spend this evening at Maisons instead of Cormeilles. 
Are you satisfied ? Am I not ready to do penance ? 

‘‘ But to-morrow — I shall come at two o’clock, and make 
my way in through the little green gate which opens into 
the orchard. Will you do something to please me? Be walking- 
up and down the path in which I delight about two o’clock. 
The wall is rather low just there, and I shall be able to see 
above it in the distance as I come, your white silk parasol. 
You see I calculate upon having sunshine. Am I not a 
baby ? It is not surprising ; I was bom three months and 
a half ago ; my life commenced on the 5th of July in this 
present year, at 4 p.m. in the Cathedral at Chur. Forgive 
me all, my faults, my fears, and my childishness. 

‘‘ Farewell till to-morrow, my darling.” 

The footman who had brought Mademoiselle Moriaz’s 
letter to Rue Mont-Thabor took back the answer we have 
just read, and this answer relieved her while it made her 
thoughtful. She brooded over certain passages which struck 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


185 


her attention especially. Though Samuel Brohl had not un- 
derlined them, he had not miscalculated their effect. Made- 
moiselle Moriaz decided that it would be advisable to 
shorten the time of suspense and expedite matters, and that 
she would beg Count Larinski when they next met to fix the 
date of the wedding himself. As to the contract, she had an 
opportunity of speaking to her father at once on the subject, 
for he announced that he had invited M. Noirot, his lawyer, 
to dinner on the following day. 

She kept silence for some moments, and then said : ‘‘ Can 
you explain to me what is the use of lawyers ? ” 

He replied, unconsciousl;f, almost in the words of the 
philosopher : ‘‘ We look only at the present, lawyers look to 
the future and possible contingencies.” 

She rejoined that she did not believe in contingencies 
and disliked precautions, because precautions presupposed 
mistrust and might seem offensive. 

‘‘ To-day is very fine,” was his reply, “ but it may chance 
to rain to-morrow. If I were. to start on a journey to-night 
I should take my umbrella with me without thinking that 
this would be insulting Providence. AVho talks of offending 
M. Larinski ? Far from disapproving what I do, he will be 
grateful. Why did he refuse to marry you ? Because you 
were rich and he was poor. The settlements I propose to 
have drawn up will soothe his disinterestedness and his 
pride.” 

She answered quickly ; ‘‘ He is above all money matters, 
and I do not wish them to be laid before him. Since you 
are so fond of similes, let us suppose that you are inviting 
one of your friends to take a turn round your kitchen 
garden. Your espaliers are laden with fruit, but you know 
that your friend is an honest man and does not care for pears 
either. Yet you persist in handcuffing him. Would he or 
would he not consider himself insulted 


186 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


He replied angrily that the cases were perfectly different, 
and when Mademoiselle Moiseney took upon herself to inter- 
fere in the discussion in support of Antoinette, declaring that 
such a man as Count Larinski was not to be mistrusted,. and 
that men of science are incapable of sympathizing with 
delicate feelings, he gave her a good snubbing and told her 
to mind her own business. For the first time in his life, he 
was really angry. 

Antoinette soothed him with caresses and promised to 
receive M. Noirot kindly, to attend seriously to his advice 
and to endeavour to profit by it, reserving the right of pointing 
out to him how deficient lawydts were in common sense. 

While M. Moriaz was engaged in this stormy discussion 
with his daughter, Samuel Brohl was on his way to Maisons. 
Madame de Lorcy^s note and invitation had first surprised 
and then pleased him ; he saw in it a proof that she was 
ceasing to struggle against the inevitable or to oppose destiny 
and Samuel Brohl, and had made up her mind to put a 
good face on her defeat. He had formed the generous de- 
sign of consoling her for her mortification, and winning her 
good will by his modest and pleasing manner. “I have 
thwarted her,’* said he with a smile, “ but I bear her no 
malice.” 

Samuel Brohl, seated alone in the railway carriage, was 
happy, perfectly happy. He was nearly in port, and considered 
it a settled thing that within a fortnight the banns would be 
published. Was he alone in his compartment ? An adored 
image was by his side ; he spoke to her and she replied. 
With a rare frigidity of soul, Samuel Brohl combined an ex- 
citable imagination, and when his imagination was kindled, 
he had some feeling of warmth about him, which he took for 
i heart, really persuading himself that he possessed one. 
At this moment, he saw Antoinette as he had left her the 
night before, with a brilliant complexion, flushed cheeks, and 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


187 


reproachful eyes, wet and almost swimming with tears. She 
had never looked so charming in his eyes. He believed him- 
self so madly in love that he was tempted to make fun cS him- 
self. He was enjoying, in anticipation, the joys in store for 
him, and looking forward to the day and hour when this 
elegant creature would be his, when he could dispose of her 
as his property, and devour page'^afber page and chapter upon 
^ chapter of this handsome volume, so luxuriously printed and 
, richly bound. 

Yet he was not the man to let such a reverie absorb him 
altogether. His thoughts travelled on; he pictured to himself 
his whole future, fashioning it to his own fancy. He took 
leave of his doleful past, as a blind man who has miraculously 
regained his sight parts with his dog and alms-tray, annoying 
reminders of his unfortunate days. He had done now with 
paltry occupations, uncongenial work, humiliating servitude, 
anxiety for the morrow, the necessity of reckoning his pence, 
scanty meals, expedients, misery and usurers ; he said fare- 
well to them all. Henceforth he would have money by 
handfuls, and his share of plenty, feasts, the delights of 
idleness, the pleasures of command, all the sweets and peace 
of a pleasant little egotism lying on cotton wool and eider 
down, fed on ortolans, and owning two or three houses, a 
carriage, horses and a box at the opera. What a prospect ! 
Samuel Brohl passed his tongue at intervals over his lips, 
they were parched. 

Alnaschar the Idle’s property amounted, as we know, to 
eight hundred silver drachmas, and he hoped to marry the 
Grand Vizier’s daughter one day. He felt tired of waiting 
till the marriage was fixed, before he could dress like a prince, 
and mount a horse with a saddle of fine gold. He intended 
to bring his wife up in good habits, to train her to obedience, 
to teach her to stand in his presence and be always ready to 
wait on him, and he had resolved that on her first caprice or 


188 


SAMtiilL BiiOHL AND PaHTNEIR. 


revolt, he would correct her with his eye, his hand, and even 
his foot. 

If Samuel BrohFs mind was more sedate than that of 
Hippoclides the Athenian, he was less brutal than Alnaschar 
of Bagdad, but was he much less savage 1 He, too, had 
resolved to educate his wife, he meant the Grand Vizier’s 
daughter to devote herself exclusively to his happiness and 
service. His dream of conjugal bliss was to own a beautiful 
brown-eyed slave with chestnut hair, shot with gold, who 
would make Samuel Brohl her pasha and her god, and spend 
her life at his feet, forestalling his wishes, reading his 
pleasure on his face, attentive to his frowns and fancies, his 
in body and soul, raising to him the eyes of a timid gazelle 
or faithful greyhound. And what need would there be for him 
to train Mademoiselle Antoinette Moriaz? Love would do that. 
She adored Samuel Brohl, he would direct her devotion and 
judgment ; it was impossible for her to refuse him anything ! 
She was already prepared for complete acquiescence and 
obedience, and would be his servant and slave. 

Hogues pride themselves on their facility for reading honest 
people ; they never more than half understand them. The 
feelings of the upright are like certain languages, reputed 
easy, which are full of secrets and niceties inaccessible to 
vulgar minds. Some commercial travellers will learn Italian 
in three weeks and never know it ; Samuel Brohl had made 
acquaintance with Mademoiselle Moriaz in a few days, but he 
failed to comprehend her. 

He arrived at Maisons in the most smiling complacent 
frame of mind. While crossing Madame de Lorcy’s park, he 
reflected that both her children had died young, that she was 
free to leave her property as she liked, that she was rather 
short necked, and of apoplectic habit, and that Antoinette 
was her godchild ; that, in truth, Madame de Lorcy had a 
grudge against Count Larinski at present, but that the count 


SA3V1UEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


189 


was clever and would soon manage to regain her good will. 
He thought the park magnificent ; he admired its long 
straight avenues, which looked interminable, paused a few 
moments before the purple beech, and felt as if some con- 
nection existed between it and himself. He gazed with a 
proprietor’s eyes on the terrace planted with fine limes, and 
determined to make his chateau at Maisons his main residence, 
his pretty villa at Cormeilles would do for an occasional one. 
As we see, his imagination had no bounds ; it furnished him 
with gold, silver, and castles in the air. 

We are unaware whether Madame de Lorcy was really of 
apoplectic habit, but it is certain that she was not dead. 
Samuel Brohl saw her from afar, beneath the verandah, where 
she had stepped out to watch for his coming. He had for- 
gotten that time was on the wing in the park that was one 
day to be his, and she began to be uneasy. 

She called out : “ Here you are at last ! you always keep 
us waiting,” adding in the most affable manner : “We meet 
again to-day under less tragic auspices, and I hope you will 
carry away a pleasanter impression of Maisons.” 

He kissed her hand, saying, Happiness must be pur- 
chased, and I could not pay too high a price for mine.” 

She brought him into the drawing-room, which he had 
scarcely entered when he saw a lady seated on an ottoman, 
fanning herself and talking to the Abbe Miollens. He stood 
motionless with his eyes fixed, scarcely breathing and as 
cold as marble ; the walls of the room seemed to him to bo 
swaying to and fro, and the floor* rocking beneath his feet 
like the deck of a vessel pitching in a heavy sea. 

On the day previous, when Antoinette had gone, Madame 
de Lorcy had returned to the charge, and ended by persuad- 
ing the Princess Gulof to put off her journey, dine with the 
green-eyed adventurer and cross-examine him. There she 
sat; yes, there could be no doubt who it was. Samuel 


190 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


Brohl’s first impulse was to make for the door and rush out, 
but he did not stir. He looked at Madame de Lorcy ; she 
was looking at him in astonishment and wondering what 
was the matter, not being able to account for the discom- 
posure betrayed by his face. It must be accidental,’’ said 
he to himself ; she has not laid a trap for me, there is no 
conspiracy.” This thought consoled him somewhat. 

‘‘Why, what is the matter 1” asked she. “Is my un- 
fortunate room making you ill again ? ” 

He pointed to a flower-stand and said : “ You are fond of 
hyacinths and tuberoses ; the scent overpowers me. You 
will think me very effeminate.” 

She replied in a caressing tone : “ I think you a great man 
with terribly bad nerves ; but you know by experience that if 
you faint, I have salts. Will you have my smelling-bottle?” 

“You are most kind,” he replied, as he walked bravely 
forward to face the danger. Dangers in silk dresses are the 
worst of all perils. As Samuel Brohl stepped forward, he 
spoke to himself, saying, like Turenne : “ Tremble if you 
will, vile carcass ! I shall make you face many another.” 

Madame de Lorcy introduced him to the princess, who 
raised her chin to examine him with her little twinkling eyes. 
He felt as if the two grey orbs levelled at him were two balls 
piercing his heart ; he shuddered from head to foot and 
asked himself if he were dead or alive. He soon perceived 
that he was alive ; the princess remained impassive, not a 
muscle of her face moved. She ended her scrutiny by a half 
gracious smile and addressed a few insignificant words to 
Samuel, who only half caught them and thought them ex- 
quisite and delicious. He felt as if she were saying : “You 
are a fortunate man, born under a lucky star, my sight has 
been failing for some years, and I do not recognise you ; 
thank your stars, you are safe ” He was still listening after 
she had ceased to speak, drinking in her words and tones. 


tJAMUBL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


191 


He felt so transported with joy that he nearly threw himself 
on the neck of the Abbe Miollens, who grasped his hand, 
exclaiming : “ What have you to say now, my dear count ? 
Great events have come to pass since last we met. What 
woman wills, God wills; after all, I had a hand in the matter 
and feel proud of it.” 

Madame de Lorcy requested Count Larinski to offer the 
Princess Gulof his arm and take her into the dining-room. 
He felt unable to articulate a word as he led her in, his 
emotion was still so great. Neither did she speak ; the 
princess’s right hand was employed in arranging one of her 
grey curls, which had fallen too much over her forehead. 
He looked at this short, plump hand, which had once, in a 
fit of jealous rage, dealt him two hard blows, and his cheeks 
recognised it. 

The princess was lively during dinner; she paid more 
attention to the Abbe Miollens than to Count Larinski, 
and amused herself by teasing the good priest and scandalis- 
ing him by her original suggestions and heretical opinions. 
He took care not to appear too scandalised, for to his natural 
good humour was united an innate respect for rank and 
princesses. She did not neglect so good an opportunity for 
propounding the theory of the man-ape. He was ready in 
repartee, and declared that he would rather feel himself a 
fallen angel than a perfected ape, that, in his eyes, a parvenu 
cut a worse figure in the world than the ruined descendant 
of a noble family. She replied that she was more of a 
democrat, that she set the highest value on those men and 
those apes who are the founders of their fortune. “ I 
delight to think of myself,” said she, “ as a progressive 
monkey with a future before it, who, by taking pains, may 
hope to rise another step in the scale.” 

While they were talking in this fashion, Samuel Brohl was 
^nde^.vonring to recover frona the terrible blow he had re- 


192 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


ceived. He was gladly confirmed in his opinion that the 
princess’s sight had grown much feebler, that the micro- 
scopic studies to which she had always been addicted had 
made her rather short-sighted, so that she was obliged to 
look closely at her wine-glasses to find the one she wanted. 

“ She has not seen me for six years,” thought he, ‘‘ and I 
am become another man, I am transformed; sometimes I 
hardly know myself. I used to shave my beard, now I wear 
it long. My voice, my accent, the carriage of my head, my 
manner and expression are all changed ; Poland has transfused 
her blood into me, I am no longer Samuel, but Larinski.” 

He blessed the microscope for injuring old women’s sight, 
and Count Abel Larinski for making him his representative. 
Before the close of the meal, he had recovered all his equa- 
nimity and assurance. He joined in the conversation, told a 
sad story in a sad manner, uttered some sprightly witticisms 
with melancholy grace, gave vent to some highly chivalrous 
sentiments, and shook his lion’s mane whilst speaking of the 
prisoner of the Vatican in tearful tones. It was impossible 
to be a more thorough Larinski. 

The princess displayed curiosity and astonishment as she 
listened, and ended with saying : “ Count, I admire you • 
but I believe in nothing but physiology, and you are rathei 
too much of a Pole for me.” 

They had scarcely left the table and returned to the 
drawing-room befora several visitors came in. This was a 
respite to Samuel. If the company was not sufficiently 
numerous to hide him, it served at least as a screen. He 
considered it certain that the princess had not recognised 
him, yet he felt ill at ease in her presence. This Calmuck 
face recalled the misery, shame, and hard bondage of his 
youth ; he could not look at it without feeling his brow burn 
as if seared by a hot iron. 

He struck up a conversation with a vain and pedantic 


SAMUE5L BROHL ANt) PARTNER. 


193 


counsellor, whose interminable monologues were most weari- 
some. This gifted speaker seemed charming to Samuel, who 
thought him clever, sagacious, and entertaining ; he had one 
great merit in his eyes, that of not knowing Samuel Brohl. 
At this moment, Samuel divided the human race into two 
categories ; the first comprising all good well-disposed men 
who knew nothing of a certain Brohl, the second any old 
women who had made his acquaintance. He put deferential 
questions to the counsellor, hung upon his lips, smiled ap- 
provingly at all the silly speeches that fell from them, and 
longed for his conversation to continue for three hours ; if 
this charming bore had shown any signs of setting him free, 
he would have held him by the button. 

Suddenly he heard a sharp voice saying to Madame de 
Lorcy : “ Where is Count Larinski ? Bring him here, I want 
to argue with him.” 

He submitted to his fate, parted reluctantly from his 
counsellor, and seated himself in a chair offered him by 
Madame de Lorcy ; he felt like a criminal, and saw distinctly 
all the instruments of torture, the boot, the rack, and even 
the wheel. Madame de Lorcy left him with the Princess 
Gulof, who said : I am told that I ought to offer you my 
congratulations and am anxious to do so — in spite of our 
being enemies.” 

“ How are we enemies, princess ? ” asked he with a slight 
anxiety which vanished at her answer. 

“ I am a Russian and you a Pole ; but we shall not have 
time to fight ; I am leaving at seven o’clock in the morning 
for England.” 

He was ready to throw himself at her feet and kiss her 
hands tenderly in token of his gratitude. Spaniards call the 
reward bestowed on the messenger who brings you good news 
alhridas. “ Seven o’clock to-morrow ! ” was his mental 
ejaculation. “I was wrong, there is some good in her.” 

N 


194 


SAMtJBL BfeOHL AND BARTNflit* 


“ When I call myself a Russian,” said she, “ it is a figut^ 
of speech. The idea of nationality is a prejudice, an obsolete 
idea, which had some life in the days of Epaminondas or 
Theseus, but is quite defunct now. We live in the age of 
telegraphs and steam-engines, and I know of no greater ab- 
surdity than a frontier, and no greater madman than a 
patriot. The story runs that you fought like a hero in the 
insurrection of 1863, displaying wonderful prowess, and 
killing ten Cossacks with your own hand. What harm had 
these poor Cossacks done you? Do not they sometimes 
haunt your dreams ? Can you think of your victims without 
anxiety or remorse ? ” 

He answered drily and haughtily : “I am not aware, 
princess, whether I have killed ten Cossacks with my own 
hand ; but I know that there are subjects upon which I do 
not care to enlarge.” 

“You are right, I should not understand you. .Don Quixote 
did not give Sancho the honour of an explanation every day.” 

“ Pray let us talk of the man-ape,” resumed he in a lighter 
tone. “ That is a question which has the advantage of being 
neither Russian nor Polish.” 

“You will not succeed in diverting me from my subject. 
I intend to say what I think, at the risk of making you 
angry. You enunciated doctrines at table which exasperated 
me. You are not merely a Polish patriot but an idealist, a 
true disciple of Plato, and you can’t think how I have always 
hated that man. I have lived sixty-five years in this world 
and never come across anything but appetites and interests. 
Twice during dinner you spoke of the ideal world. What is 
this ideal world, and where is it to be found? You talked 
about it as if it were a house where you knew the inmates 
and carried the key in your pocket. Can you show it me? 
I swear not to rob you of it. Oh poet ! For you are as 
much a poet as a Pole, and that is saying a great deal.” 


SAMUEL BROHL AMD PARTNEit. 


196 


After that, all I can do is to hang myself,” said he, 
interrupting her with a smile. 

“No, I should not think of hanging you. Thoughts are 
free, and we must let every one, even idealists, live. Be- 
sides, if we were to hang you, we should drive to despair a 
charming girl who dotes on you, for whom you were expressly 
made, and whom you are to marry very soon. When is the 
wedding to take place ? ” 

“ If I could venture to hope that you would do me the 
honour of being present, princess, I would await your return 
from England.” 

“You are too obliging, I would not delay Mademoiselle 
Moriaz’s happiness on any account. Well, my dear count, I 
congratulate you sincerely. I had the pleasure of meeting 
the future Countess Larinski in this house. She is delightful, 
an exquisite creature, the very wife for a poet. She has 
mind and discernment, she has chosen you, which proves it. 
As to her fortune, I dare not ask you whether she has any ; 
I should soon be silenced. Do idealists trouble themselves 
about such paltry matters ? ” 

She drew nearer to him, and said, with a flutter of her 
fan : “ These poor idealists ! They have one misfortune.” 

“ What is that, princess ? ” 

“ They dream with their eyes open, and the awakening is 
sometimes disagreeable. Ah, my dear Count Larinski, etc., 
etc., etc. And so the adventure ends.” * 

Then stretching out her head, and darting on Samuel the 
long gaze of a viper, she murmured in a voice which pierced 
his brain like a sharp edged saw : “ Samuel Brohl, green- 
eyed man, sooner or later mountains meet.” 

Opposite Samuel hung a large full length portrait of the 
late M. de Lorcy in his official robes. This ex-syndic of 
the Bourse seemed to him to have moved in his frame, 
and rolled his eyes horribly. The candelabra over the 


196 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER* 


mantelpiece also seemed to give out flames whose pink, 
green, and blue tongues flared up to the ceiling. He like- 
wise felt as if his heart were beating as loud as the pendulum 
of a clock, and that every one would be turning round to 
make out where the noise came from. People were other- 
wise occupied, no one turned round, and no one suspected 
that a man in the room had just been stmck by a thunder- 
bolt. 

The man passed his hand over his forehead, on which 
stood a cold sweat ; then, dispelling by an effort of will the 
cloud which hung over his eyelids, he bent over the princess 
afld said in a low voice, with a quivering brow and malicious 
air: ‘‘Princess, I know a little of the Samuel Brohl you men- 
tion; he is not a man to see himself strangled quietly. You 
are not often in the habit of writing, but he received two 
letters from you, of which he made a copy, depositing the 
originals in a safe place. If he ever found himself obliged 
to come into court, these two letters would add great interest 
to his counsel’s defence, and be certain to delight all the 
gossiping journals of Paris.” 

With this he made her a low, respectful bow, took leave 
of Madame de Lorcy and retired, followed by the Abbe 
Miollens, who tortured him by insisting on accompanying 
him to the station. Released from the restraint of Madame 
de Lorcy’s presence, the abbe gave full vent to his feelings 
respecting the hSippy event on which he prided himself as 
having taken part, and overwhelmed him with congratulations 
and wishes for his happiness, pouring out honey and myrrh 
for a quarter of an hour. Samuel wovdd have liked to have 
wrung his neck. He did not breathe freely imtil relieved 
of the abba’s oppressive company. 

A storm was growling in the almost cloudless sky ; it was 
a dry storm, the rain falling elsewhere. Flashes of lightning 
from all parts of the compass lit up the plain, accompanied 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


197 


by distant peals of thunder. The hills seemed at times on 
fire. Samuel, sitting with his face pressed close to the 
window of the railway carriage, fancied he saw in the direc- 
tion of Cormeilles a lurid glare, consuming his dream and 
two millions of francs in cash, to say nothing of expecta- 
tions. 

He reproached himself bitterly for having taken umbrage 
the night before. If I had passed yesterday evening with 
her,” thought he, ‘‘she would be sure to have mentioned 
the Princess Gulof ; I should have taken my measures 
accordingly, and this would never have happened.” 

This was M. Langis’ fault, he imputed his disaster to him, 
and hated him still more. 

As he drew near Paris he felt his courage revive. 

“ The two letters frightened the old fairy,” thought he ; 
“ she will think twice before making war on me. No, she 
will not dare.” And he added : “ Even if she dared, An- 
toinette is so fond of me that I can make her believe what- 
ever I choose.” 

And he began to prepare the speech he would make in 
case of need. 

At the same instant, Madame de Lorcy, being left alone 
with the Princess Gulof, said: “Well, my dear, you drew 
my man out. What do you think of him ? ” 

The princess’s answer disappointed her greatly. “ I think, 
my dear,” said she, “ that Count Larinski is the last of the 
romantic school, or the last of the troubadours, if you 
like ; but I have no reason to suspect him of being an ad- 
venturer.” 

This was all that Madame de Lorcy could manage to 
extract from the Princess Gulof ; she had arranged to keep 
her there for the night and received nothing in return for her 
hospitality. 

The princess spent part of the night in reflection and de- 


198 


aAMUFL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


liberation. Samuel Brohl’s insolent threat had produced 
some effect. She tried to recall the precise tenor of the two 
letters which she had once been so imprudent as to write to 
him from London, during a business mission on which he 
was engaged for her in Paris. The one she had composed 
in a moment of foolish expansion, the other in a fit of 
passionate love and anger. The first contained some lively 
sarcasms on augTist personages ; the second rather too much 
physiology. On her return, she had commanded Samuel 
to burn these two compromising epistles in her presence ; he 
had deceived h^r, and burnt only the envelopes and some 
blank paper. 

The thought of her compositions being read out some 
day in comi or printed as they ran in a society journal 
alarmed th.o princess and made the blood boil in her veins ; 
she did nt7t care to let Paris and St Petersburg into the 
story of % passion which was odious in the retrospect, or to 
publish to the world at large that the wife of a Governor - 
General of Moscow had had an intrigue with a sharper ; — 
but then to let such a delightful revenge slip from her 
hands ! renounce the pleasure of gods and princes ! allow 
the man who had deserted her and just now braved her to 
succeed in his dark intrigue ! To this she could not consent, 
and the result was, that she hardly closed her eyes during 
the whole of the night aht? spent at Maison^ 


CHAPTETi XT. 


Next morning, after breakfast, Mademoiselle Moriaz was 
walking alone on the terrace. The weather was delightfully 
mild. Her head was bare, and she had put up her white 
silk parasol to shade her from the sun, for Samuel Brohl 
had been a true prophet, and the sun was shining. She 
looked up at the sky, where the dry storm of the previous 
night had left no trace, and thought she had never seen it 
so blue. She looked at her flower-borders and saw blossoms 
which perhaps were not to be found there. She looked at 
the irregular slope of orchard bordering the terrace, and 
admired the foliage of the apple-trees, which autumn had 
already sprinkled with gold and purple ; the grass rose high 
round their stems and it glistened and smelt sweet. Above 
the apple-trees she saw the spire of the church at Cormeilles, 
which was also amusing itself by watching the clouds 
float by. 

It was a fete-day, and the pealing bells spoke to the 
happy girl of that distant mysterious land which we remem- 
ber, though we have never seen. Their silver voices met 
with a response in the happy cluck of some hens. She felt 
at once that this was a joyous day in poultry-yards as well 
as in belfries, and that high and low were celebrating an 
arrival. What seemed to her more charming than all the 
rest, was a small recessed gate at the bottom of the 
orchard, the arch over which was hung with ivy. This was 
the gate through which he was to come. 


200 


SAMUEL EROIi-L AND fARTNER. 


She walked round the terrace several times. The gravel 
seemed elastic and rose beneath her feet. Mademoiselle 
Moriaz had never felt herself so light; life, present and 
future, weighed no heavier upon her than a bird on the hand 
which holds it and feels it quiver. Her heart quivered like 
a bird ; it had wings and only wanted to fly. She fancied 
she saw happiness everyw'here ; in the air, on the breeze, in 
every noise and every silence. She gazed with a smile on 
the wide landscape which lay beneath her eyes, and the 
glittering Seine smiled in return. 

A servant came to announce that a strange lady wished to 
speak to her. The next instant the stranger appeared, and 
Mademoiselle Moriaz was disagreeably surprised by finding 
herself in the presence of the Princess Gulof, whom she 
would have been glad never to set eyes on again. “ What 
an annoying visit,’’ thought she, as she offered her a seat on 
a bench. “ What can this woman want with me ? ” 

‘‘ It was to M. Moriaz that I wished to speak,” said the 
princess. ‘‘ They tell me he is out. I shall be setting out 
for Calais in a few hours and cannot await his return, and so 
I have decided on addressing myself to you. Mademoiselle. I 
am come to render you one of those little services which 
women never refuse each other, but first of all I wish to be 
able to count on your absolute discretion ; I do not wish to 
appear in this matter.” 

“In what matter, madame ? ” 

“No trifling one ; it rela,tes to your marriage.” 

“You are much too kind to interest yourself in my 
marriage, but I do not see — ” 

“ You will soon see. Then you promise me — 

“I promise nothing, madame, that I do not understand.” 
The princess looked at Mademoiselle Moriaz a little 
blankly. She had fancied herself talking to a dove, but now 
discovered that the dove was less meek and more stiff-necked 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


201 


than she had supposed. For a moment she hesitated as to 
whether she would end the interview, but finally decided to 
proceed. 

“ I have a story to tell you,” she went on in a familiar 
tone, “ pray give me your attention ; I am much mistaken 
if it will not interest you in the end. It is now thirteen or 
fourteen years since one of those mishaps to which travellers 
are liable obliged me to pass some hours in a wretched 
Galician town. The inn, or rather pot house, at which I stayed 
was very dirty ; the proprietor, a mean-looking little German 
Jew, was dirtier than his tavern, and had an equally dirty 
son. I am prone to illusions about men. In spite of his 
filth, I thought the youth interesting. His wretched father 
refused him any instruction and beat him cruelly ; he looked 
intelligent and gave me the impression of a fresh water fish 
condemned to swim round a puddle. His name was Samuel 
Brohl, do not forget this. I took pity on him, and could 
find no other way of delivering him than that of buying him 
from his father. The dreadful little man asked me an ex- 
orbitant price : I assure you that his demands were ridicu- 
lous. I was not in funds, my dear, I had no more money 
with me than just what I required for continuing my journey , 
but I had a bracelet on my arm which fortunately took his 
fancy. It was a Persian ornament, rather singular than 
beautiful ; I can see it now : three gold plaques, decorated 
with fantastic animals and joined by a kind of filigree plait. 
1 was attached to this bracelet, which had been brought me 
from Teheran. There was a secret spring to one of the 
plaques ; inside this I had had the most interesting dates in 
my life engraved, and beneath them my creed, which does 
not concern you. Ah ! my dear, when we are once bitten 
by the dangerous passion called philanthropy, we become 
capable of exchanging a Persian bracelet for a Samuel Brohl, 
and I can tell you that I was dwindled in my bargain. The 


202 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


wretched boy ill repaid my kindness. I sent him to the 
university and afterwards attached him to my person as my 
secretary. He was an ungrateful lad ; one fine day he took 
to his heels and vanished.” 

“ It was shocking ingratitude,” broke in Antoinette, “ and 
your kindness met with an ill return, madame; but I do not 
quite see what connection there can be between Samuel Brohl 
and my marriage.” 

You are too impatient, my love. If you had given me 
time, I should have told you that yesterday I had the most 
unexpected pleasure of dining with him at Madame de Lorcy^s. 
This German has made rapid strides since I lost sight of him. 
Hot content with becoming a Pole, he is now a person of rank. 
His name is Count Abel Larinski, and he is shortly to marry 
Mademoiselle Antoinette Moriaz.” 

The colour rushed to Antoinette’s cheeks, and her eyes 
flashed. The princess misunderstood the feeling animating 
her, and said : “ Don’t be angry or indignant, my dear ; it 
will do you no good. There is no denying that a scoundrel 
capable of deceiving such a charming girl, is worthy of more 
than death; but beware of creating a scandal. Scandals, my 
dear, always produce dirty water which splashes everybody, 
and there is a rather vulgar, but very sensible Turkish pro- 
verb which says : ‘ The more you pound garlic, the stronger 
it smells.’ Believe me, you will not escape without a touch 
of ridicule ; there are some mistakes which always provoke 
mirth, and it is useless to furnish entertainment for the 
whole world. Thank heaven, you are not yet the Countess 
Larinski, and I have arrived just in time to save you. Keep 
silence as to the discovery you have just made, don’t mention 
it to Samuel Brohl, but search for a good excuse to break off 
your engagement. You would not be a woman if you could 
not find ten that would do as soon as one.” 

Mademoiselle Moriaz could restrain herself no longer. 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER, 


203 


** Madame,” she cried vehemently, “ will you consent to tell 
Count Larinski, in my presence, that his name is Samuel 
Brohl?” 

“ I made that statement to him yesterday, mademoiselle, 
and it would be useless for me to repeat it. He was more 
dead than alive, and I felt really sorry for the state into which 
I cast him. I cannot hide from myself that it is all my 
fault ; why did I take this lad from his father’s tavern and 
his native mire ? Perhaps, had he stayed there, he might 
have been honest. It was I that sent him forth into the 
world and made him ambitious to rise. I put some trumps 
in his hand, he found that he was not winning fast enough 
and began to cheat. It is not for me to be hard on the poor 
devil, we owe something to our prot^g^s, and, once again, I 
don’t wish to appear any more in this matter. Promise me 
that Samuel Brohl shall never be informed of my interview 
with you.” 

She was answered, in a haughty tone : I promise you, 
madame, never to insult Count Larinski by repeating to 
him one word of the highly probable story you have just 
told me.” 

On receiving this reply the princess started to her feet, 
planted herself in front of Mademoiselle Moriaz, and gazed at 
her in silence ; then in the most ironical of tones she said : 
“ Ah, you don’t believe me, my dear. Of course you don’t 
in the least believe me. You are right ; it does not do to 
trust an old woman’s babble. No, my darling, there is no 
such person as Samuel Brohl ; I dined at Maisons yesterday 
with the most genuine of Count Larinskis, and all that 
remains for me to do is to offer my best wishes for the certain 
happiness of the Countess Larinski, et csGtera, Countess 
Larinski and partner.” 

With these words she curtseyed; turned on her heels and 
disappeared. 


204 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


Mademoiselle Moriaz seemed stunned for a moment, and 
roused herself with difficulty. She asked herself whether it 
had not all been a vision or nightmare, whether it was a real 
live Kussian princess who had just been there, sitting by her 
side, and saying such extraordiuary things that the Cormeilles 
belfry could not hear them without falling into a profound 
stupor. The Cormeilles belfry was indeed silent, its bells 
had ceased to ring; a terrible stillness reigned for miles 
around. 

Antoinette soon mastered her emotion. “ I thought this 
woman rather crazy the day before yesterday,” said she to 
herself ; “ she is a wicked lunatic, I long for Abel to come, 
he will tell me what passed between him and this dotard at 
that dinner, and we shall laugh over it. Maybe nothing 
happened at all. Ought not the Princess Gulof to be shut 
up in an asylum ? It is very wrong to let such maniacs go 
at large. It might give rise to accidents ; the bells at Cor- 
meilles have stopped ringing. Oh, what can be the meaning 
of it ? Madame de Lorcy must have had a hand in the mat- 
ter. It is a continuation of her grand conspiracy. How 
many acts are there in -the play? This is the second or 
third ; but some jests make people angry. I shall end by 
being indignant.” 

The Princess Gulof had wasted her labour. Mademoiselle 
Moriaz felt that during the last twenty minutes she loved 
Count Larinski more than ever. 

The hour was approaching, he must be on his way ; she 
had never been so impatient to see him. She caught sight 
of some one at the other end of the terrace ; it was M. Camille 
Langis, proceeding to the laboratory. He turned his head, 
retraced his steps and came towards her. M. Moriaz had 
asked him to make a translation of two pages of a German 
pamphlet which he found some difficulty in understanding. 
Camille had brought his translation ; this might be bis 


SAiVitj]^L BROliL AND PARTNER. 205 

reason for returning within two days to Cormeilles, or it 
might be only his pretext. 

Mademoiselle Moriaz could not help reflecting that his 
visit was inopportune, and that he generally chose his time 
ill. “ If the count finds him here again,’’ thought she, “ I 
am not afraid of his making a scene, but all his pleasure will 
be spoiled.” So she received M. Langis with a slight cold- 
ness which he perceived. 

“ I am in the way,” said he, preparing to retreat. 

She detained him, and changing her tone, said : “You are 
never in the way, Camille. Sit down.” 

He sat down and began to talk of the Chantilly races, 
where he had been the day before. She listened and nodded 
her head in to^ken of approbation ; but she only heard his 
voice through a mist which veiled all sounds. She raised 
her hand to drive away a wasp whose buzz irritated her ; the 
lace of her sleeve fell back, leaving her wrist uncovered. 

“ You have a curious sort of bracelet there,” said M. Langis. 

“ Have not you seen it before ? ” she answered. “ Yet it 
is some time since — ” 

She stopped, an idea had suddeMy struck her, she looked 
at her wrist. This bracelet which never left her, the bracelet 
given her by Count Larinski, and prized by him because it 
had been his mother’s, and worn by the late Countess 
Larinski in her last moments, was unlike any other; but 
Mademoiselle Moriaz noticed how much it resembled the 
Persian bracelet which the Princess Gulof had described as 
having been exchanged for Samuel Brohl. The three gold 
plaques, the monstrous animals, the little chains of woven 
filigree, all corresponded exactly. She took it from her arm 
and held it out to M. Langis, saying : “ It seems that there 
is something written inside one of these plaques ; but to 
open it one must know the secret spring. Can you find 
out secrets ? ” 


206 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


He examined the bracelet carefully, “Two of these 
plaques,” said he, “ are solid and of massive gold ; the third 
is hollow and might serve as a box. I can see here a tiny 
and almost invisible hinge ; but it is useless to look for the 
spring, I cannot find it.” 

“ Is the hinge strong ? ” 

“ Not ver}q and it would be easy to force open the lid.” 

“ That is what you must do,” she replied. 

“ What are you thinking of? Heaven preserve me from 
injuring an ornament that you are fond of ! ” 

She replied : “ I have become acquainted wdth a Russian 
princess who is mad upon physiology and dissections. She 
has infected me with her tastes, and I wish to begin dissect- 
ing. I like this ornament, but I want to know what is 
inside it. Do as I tell you,” she continued. “ You will find 
the necessary appliances in the laboratory. Go, the key is 
in the door.” 

He eyed her ; her glance sparkled and her manner was 
peremptory, as she repeated : “ Go at once ! Don’t you 
understand me ? ” 

He obeyed, and went toi^he laboratory with the bracelet. 
In five minutes, he returned. 

“ I am very awkward,” he said, “ and have damaged the lid 
in forcing it ; but you would make me do it, and now your 
curiosity will be gratified.” 

She was fully able to gratify her curiosity. She seized 
the bracelet eagerly, and saw, engraved on the gold of the 
under plaque, now laid bare, some tiny, almost microscopic 
characters. By dint of attentive examination, she succeeded 
in deciphering them. She made out several dates, marking 
the years, months, and days, which had proved eventful to 
the Princess Gulof. These dates, unaccompanied by any notes, 
had once sufficed to her to recall the principal experiments 
she had tried upon men before Samuel Brohl fell in her 


feAMtEL BROHL ANi) PARTNER. 


^07 


way. The result had not been satisfactory, for beneath this 
species of calendar might be read her confession of faith in 
these words: “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.’’ This 
melancholy declaration was signed, and the signature was 
very legible. Mademoiselle Moriaz spelt it out easily, though 
her eyes were dim, and it convinced her that the ornament 
given her by Count Larinski as a family relic had once be- 
longed to Anna Petrovna, Princess Gulof. 

She turned deadly pale and her head swam, she felt as if 
she were going out of her mind. In her agony, she thought 
she saw herself far away, a tiny dot at the end of the world, 
climbing a mountainous ridge beyond which a man was 
waiting for her. She asked herself, which was Mademoiselle 
Moriaz, that traveller or herself. She closed her eyes and 
saw a black abyss opening before her, engulfing her life as a 
whirlpool sucks in a fallen leaf 

M. Langis drew near, tapped the palms of her hands lightly 
and said : “ Whatever is the matter ? ” 

She roused herself and tried to raise her head, but it 
drooped again. She felt a choking at her heart, and an 
irresistible longing to open it to some one. She felt the man 
who was speaking to her to be one of those to whom a 
woman might tell her secret, a soul into which she might 
pour her shame without a blush. In a broken voice she be- 
gan a confused and disjointed story, which Camille found it 
difficult to follow. But at length he understood it, and was 
divided between an immense pity for her desperate grief and 
the fierce lover’s joy which made him ready to choke. 

The Cormeilles belfry had recovered its voice ; it struck 
two. Antoinette rose suddenly, exclaiming : “He asked 
me to meet him near that pretty little gate you see 
below. He would have a right to be angry if I kept him 
waiting.” 

And she turned towards the flight of steps which led from 


m 


SAMUEL LROHL AND I^ARTNM. 


the terrace into the orchard. M. Langis followed and tried 
to detain her. 

“You must not see him again,’’ said he. “I will go and 
meet him. Pray entrust me with your explanations.” 

Antoinette repulsed him, and said in a commanding tone : 
“ I mean to see him and speak to him ; no one but myself 
can tell him what is in my heart. I order you to remain 
here ; I do not intend him to lay the blame on any one else 
but myself.” And with the ghost of a smile on her lips, she 
added : “ Fancy that I do not yet believe in his having 
deceived me ; I shall not believe it till I have read the lie in 
his eyes.” 

She ran down the orchard and stood for five minutes with 
her eyes fixed on the gate, watching for Samuel Brohl. In 
her impatience she counted the seconds, though she could 
have wished the gate would never open. Near her stood an 
old apple tree of which she was fond ; in former days she 
had more than once slung her hammock from one of its 
arched branches. She went and leaned against the rugged 
trunk of the old tree. Then she felt as if she was no longer 
alone, as if she had some one there to protect her. 

At length the gate opened, admitting Samnel Brohl with 
a smile on his lips. His first words were : “ Where is your 
parasol ? You have forgotten it.” 

She answered: “Don’t you see that there is no sunshine?” 
and remained leaning against her apple-tree. 

He raised his hand to point to the blue sky, but it dropped 
to his side. He looked at Antoinette and trembled. He 
guessed at once that she knew all, but put a bold face on the 
matter. 

“ I passed a miserable day yesterday ; Madame de Lorcy 
set me down to table with a lunatic ; but the night made up 
for it : in my dreams I again saw the Engadine, the fir-trees, 
the cedars, emerald lakes, and a red hood.” 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


209 


And I too dreamed last night. I dreamt that the 
bracelet you gave me once belonged to the lunatic you speak 
of, and that she had had her name engraved on it.^^ 

She tossed the bracelet to him : he picked it up and ex- 
amined it, turning it round and round in his trembling 
fingers. She grew impatient. ‘‘ Look at the plaque which 
has been forced. Cannot you read ? ” 

He read and was stupified. Who could have suspected 
that the ornament he had foimd among his father’s posses- 
sions had come from the Princess Gulof, and was the price 
she had paid for Samuel Brohl’s deliverance and infamy? 
Samuel was a fatalist ; he felt that his star had waned in its 
course, that chance had conspired to ruin his hopes, that 
he was condemned and lost. Profound dejection came over 
iiim. 

“Can you tell me what I ought to think of a certain 
Samuel Brohl ? ” asked she. 

This name, as it fell from her lips, crushed him like a 
lump of lead ; he could never have believed that human 
words could carry such weight. He staggered beneath the 
blow, then striking his forehead with his clenched fists, he 
replied : “ Samuel Brohl is deserving of your pity as well as 
mine. If you knew all that he has suffered and dared, you 
could not help pitying and admiring him. Listen to me, 
Samuel Brohl is an unfortunate — ” 

“ A pitiful creature ! ” said she, interrupting him in a 
terrible voice. She began to laugh hysterically, and cried : 

“ Madame Brohl ! I cannot consent to be called Madame 
Brohl ! Oh, that poor Countess Larinski ! ” 

He shivered with a paroxysm of rage that would have 
terrified her, had she known what stirred within him. He 
raised his head, and folded his arms across his chest with a 
bitter smile, as he said : It was not the man you loved, but 
the count” 


o 


210 


SAMTIEL BHOHL AND PARTNER. 


SHe answered : “ The man I loved had never lied.” 

“ True, I lied,” cried he, gasping, “ and I own my shame 
without remorse or disgust. I lied because I loved you to 
distraction, because you were dearer to me than my honour, 
because I despaired of touching your heart and shrank 
from nothing that might bring me nearer to you. Why 
did I ever meet you ? Why could I not see you with- 
out feeling you to be the realised ideal of my life ? Happi- 
ness was swiftly fleeting, it would have vanished for ever, 
but I caught it in a snare. I lied. Who would not 
purchase your love by a lie ? ” 

Samuel Brohl had never looked so handsome as at this 
moment. Despair and passion kindled a dark flame in his 
eyes; he had all the sinister charm of a fallen angel. He fixed 
a look of fascination on Antoinette, which said: “What is my 
name, my deceptions, or anything else to you? My face is 
not a mask, and I am the man with whom you fell in love.” 

He never suspected the extraordinary facility with which 
Antoinette had taken back the heart so easily given ; he had 
no conception of the miracles wrought by contempt. The 
Middle Ages believed in golems, clay figures of dazzling 
beauty, which were, to all appearance, alive. Beneath a 
lock of hair they concealed the word tr%vlh written on their 
forehead in Hebrew characters. If by chance they uttered a 
lie, the word faded out ; they lost all their charm, and the 
clay became simply clay. 

Mademoiselle Moriaz divined Samuel Brohl’s thoughts, 
and exclaimed : “ The man whom I loved was the one 
whose story you told me.” 

He felt he would have liked to have killed her in order 
that no one else might have her. ' Twenty paces behind her, 
the edge of a draw-well was to be seen ; the sight of it 
turned him dizzy. He discovered with despair that he 
lacked courage for a crime, 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


211 


He fell on his knees in the grass, exclaiming : “ If you do 
not forgive me, I have nothing left but to die.” She re- 
mained motionless and impassive, repeating Camille Langis’ 
speech between her teeth : “I am waiting till this great 
actor has finished his part.” 

He rose and ran towards the well. She was there before 
him blocking the way ; but at the same instant she felt a 
pair jf hands encircling her waist, and the breath of a pair 
of lips seeking hers, and murmuring: ‘‘You love me still, 
since you will not let me die.” 

In her horror she struggled violently, and succeeded by a 
frantic effort in freeing herself. She fled towards the house, 
followed by Samuel Brohl, who was on the point of laying 
hold of her, when he stopped abruptly. He had just caught 
sight of M. Langis rushing out of a clump of shrubs where he 
had lain hidden. Having grown anxious, the latter had stolen 
down unnoticed by a path concealed by trees and shrubs, 
Antoinette ran to him, panting for breath, and crying. 
“ Camille, save me from this man ! ” threw herself into 
his arms, which closed round her with rapture. He felt 
her droop, and had he not held her, she would have 
fallen. 

At the same moment he was addressed in a threatening 
voice, which said : ‘‘We shall meet again, sir.” 

“ This very day,” replied he. 

There was a wild look on Antoinette’s face ; she neither 
saw nor heard, and her limbs could no longer support her. 
Camille had some difficulty in getting her back to the 
house ; she could not ascend the steps up to the terrace, and 
he was obliged to carry her. 

Mademoiselle Moiseney caught sight of him, and filled the 
air with her cries. She ran to meet them and lavished 
every attention on her queen. While endeavouring to 
restore her to consciousness, she kept asking Camille for 


212 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


explanations to which she only half listened ; and interrupt- 
ing him at every word to exclaim : “ It is all a scheme, and 
you are the soul of the plot. I see it all, you bear Antoi- 
nette a grudge ; your wounded vanity could never get over 
her refusal, and you are determined to have your revenge. 
Perhaps you flatter yourself that she will end by loving you. 
She does not love you and never will. Who are you that 

you dare to compare yourself to Count Larinski ? Hold 

your tongue. As if I believed in your Samuel Brohls ! I 
know nothing of Samuel Brohl. 1 would stake my head 
that there is no such person. 

“ You would not be staking much, mademoiselle,” retorted 
M. Moriaz, who had arrived in the interim. 

Antoinette continued for an hour in a state of silent 
stupor, then violent fever set in. When the doctor who had 
been sent for arrived, M. Langis followed him into the sick- 
room. She was delirious ; she sat up and passed her hand 
continually over the upper part of her forehead ; she kept 
trying to etface the impure traces of a kiss that she had 
received one moonlight night, and the mark left on her hair 
by the touch of a bat which had clung to her hood. These 
two things w^ere confounded in her memory. Every now 
and then she kept saying ; ‘‘ Where is my portrait ? Give 
me back my portrait.” 

It was towards ten o’clock that night when M. Langis 
presented himself at the abode of Samuel Brohl, who was 
not surprised to see him, having anticipated the visit. 
Samuel had regained his self-possession. He was calm and 
dignified. Yet the tempest through which he had passed 
had left its traces on his countenance. His lips quivered, 
and his beautiful chestnut locks twined round his temples 
like serpents, imparting the aspect of a Medusa’s head. 

His words to Camille were: “When and where? Our 
seconds will see to the rest.” 


SAMtJEL BllOHL PABTNM. 


213 


“ You mistake the purport of mj visit,” was M. Langis’ 
reply. “ I am sorry to destroy your illusions, but I have 
not come with the least idea of arranging a meeting.” 

“ Do you refuse me satisfaction ^ ” 

“ What satisfaction can I owe you 1 ” 

‘‘ You have insulted me.” 

‘‘When?” 

“ And you said : ‘ The day, the place, and the weapon, I 
leave to you.’ ” 

M. Langis could not help smiling. “ Then you acknow- 
ledge at last that your swoons are feigned ? ” said he. 

“ Acknowledge in return,” retorted Samuel, “ that you 
insult people when you believe them incapable of hearing 
you. Your courage takes precautions.” 

“ Be reasonable,” resumed Camille, “ I placed myself at 
Count Larinski’s disposal, but you cannot expect me to fight 
with a Samuel Brohl.” 

Samuel sprang forward with indignant fierceness towards 
the young man, who stood firm, awing him by his determined 
look. He darted a sinister glance at Camille, drew back and 
sat down, biting his lips till the blood came ; then said, in 
a calm voice : “Will you be so good as to inform me, sir, 
what procures me the honour of your visit ?” 

“ I am come to ask for a portrait which Mademoiselle 
Moriaz wishes to recover.” 

“ If I refused to restore it, you would of course appeal to 
my delicacy of feeling ?” 

“ Can you doubt it T replied Camille ironically. 

“ That proves that you still believe in Count Larinski, 
and are indeed speaking to him at this moment.” 

“ Let me undeceive you. I came in search of M. Samuel 
Brohl, who is a man of business, to transact a business 
matter with him.” And drawing out a pocket-book, he 
said : “You see, I am prepared.” 


m 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


Samuel leaned back in his chair. With half closed eyes 
he looked at M. Langis through his lashes ; his face altered, 
his nose became more hooked and his chin more pointed ; he 
was no longer the lion, but the fox. On his lips there 
played the honeyed smile of the usurer, laying his snares 
for youthful scions and scenting a good chance. If Jere- 
miah Brohl could have looked in from the other world and 
seen him at that moment, he would have recognised his own 
son. 

At last he said to Camille : ‘‘You are a clever man, sir. 
I am disposed to listen to you.” 

“ I am glad, to hear it, and in fact, I felt sure of it. I 
know you to be very intelligent and inclined to turn vexatious 
circumstances to the best account.” 

“ Pray spare my blushes. I am much obliged to you for 
your excellent opinion : but I ought to warn you that I am 
considered rather avaricious, and you will have to leave some 
of your feathers between my fingers.” 

M. Langis^ sole reply was a tap of his hand on his pocket- 
book, which was stuffed with bank-notes. Then Samuel 
took a casket from a locked drawer, and opened it. 

“ Here is a most precious trinket,” said he. “ The locket 
is gold and the miniature exquisitely painted. It is a real 
work of art, the colouring is equally perfect with the 
drawing. The mouth is marvellously rendered ; Mengs or 
Liotard could not have surpassed it — what value do you set 
on this gem ? ” 

“You are more of a connoisseur than myself ; I will take 
it at your own valuation.” 

“ I will part with this work of art for five thousand francs; 
a mere nothing.” 

Camille prepared to produce the five thousand francs from 
his pocket-book. How hasty you are ! ” resumed Samuel. 
“ This portrait is not simply valuable as a work of art ; 1 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER 


215 


am sure it has a sentimental value in your eyes, for I sus- 
pect that you are deeply in love with the original.” 

“ Are you cross-examining me ? ” retorted Camille, casting 
on him a withering glance. 

“Don^t excite yourself. My business habits are methodi- 
cal and precise. My father always kept to a fixed price ; I 
am like him and make no reductions. You can easily un- 
derstand that what is worth five thousand francs to a friend 
may be worth twice as much to a lover. This trinket is 
worth ten thousand francs. You can take it or leave it.” 

“ 1 will take it,” replied M. Langis. 

“ While we are on this subject,” pursued Samuel, I 
have sorhe other articles which might suit you.” 

“ Perhaps you mean to suggest that I should purchase 
your old clothes !” 

“ Let us come to an understanding ; I have other articles 
of the same description.” 

And he produced from a cupboard the red hood, which he 
spread out on the table. 

Here are some old clothes, to use your own expression, 
which may possibly interest you. The hood is of a beautiful 
colour, if you saw it in the sun, it would quite dazzle you. 
The material is common, I allow, a poor quality of cashmere, 
but if you examine it more closely, you will be struck by its 
peculiar scent, what the Italians call Vodor femminino.^^ 

‘‘ And what price does your tariff set on Vodor 
femminino f” 

“ I wish to be accommodating. You shall have this hood 
and its perfume for five thousand francs. I am giving it 
away.” 

“ Of course. We will say ten and five, that makes fifteen 
thousand.” 

‘‘ One moment. You had better pay in a himp ; I have 
^fill^ something else to offer, One might suppose the fiooy 


216 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


was burning your feet, and that you could not bear to be in 
this room.” 

“I own that I long to quit this — what shall I call it '? — 
this shop, this den or cavern.” 

“ You are young, sir ; you should never be too hasty ; 
over haste makes people overlook things which they after- 
wards regret. You would be sorry to go without taking 
these two bits of paper.” 

With these words he drew from his pocket-book two letters 
and unfolded them. 

“ Is there much more ?” asked Camille. ‘‘ I am afraid of 
running short and having to return for fresh supplies.” 

“Well, I cannot part with these two letters for a liiere crust 
of bread, and especially the second. It is but twelve lines — but 
then the pretty pointed hand ! Just look at it, and the style 
is so tender and afiectionate. I may add that it is signed. 
Oh, how charmed Mademoiselle Moriaz will be to recover her 
handwriting ] How much obliged she will be to you ! You 
can make the most of it, and tell her that you terrified me, 
and wrung them from me by threats. With what a gracious 
smile she will reward your heroism 1— I think, sir, that this 
smile, like the locket, is worth ten thousand francs ; the two 
trifles are of equal value.” 

“ If you want more, don’t hesitate to say so.” 

“No, sir. As 1 have said, I have but one price.” 

“ Then, according to this reckoning, I owe you twenty- 
five thousand francs. Have you nothing else to sell me T 

“Alas ! that is all.” 

“Will you swear iti” 

“ What, sir, then you admit that Samuel Brohl has his 
word of honour to give you, and that if he swears, he is to 
be believed T 

“ You were right, I am very young.” 

It is all, as I have said,” resumed Samuel, with a sigh. 


aA.MtJEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


^17 


My shop is but poorly furnished ; I was getting up my stock, 
but a provoking accident has interfered with my trade.” 

‘‘Never mind, comfort yourself,” replied M. Langis, “you 
will find some other opportunity ; such a superior talent as 
yours cannot fail to do so. You have been unfortunate, but 
fortune will make you amends some day, and the world will 
recognise your gifts.” 

So saying, he laid on the table twenty-five notes of a 
thousand francs each. He counted them, Samuel counted 
them after him, and then handed over the locket, the hood, 
and the two letters. 

Camille rose to go. “Monsieur Brohl,” said he, “from 
the day I first saw you, I formed the highest idea of your 
character, but the reality has exceeded my expectations. I 
am delighted to have made your acquaintance, and venture 
to hope that you do not regret having made mine. Yet I can 
scarcely hope that we shall meet again.” 

“ Who knows T replied Samuel, suddenly changing his ex- 
pression and attitude. And he added : “ If you are fond of 
surprises, be so good as to remain one minute longer in this 
cavern.” 

He twisted up the twenty-five thousand franc notes like a 
curl-paper ; then, with a gesture, worthy of a Poniatowski, 
held them to a candle ; they caught fire, and he threw them 
flaming into the grate, where they burned away to nothing. 
Then turning towards M. Langis, he exclaimed : “Will 
you do me the honour of meeting me?” 

“ After such a noble action, I can refuse you nothing,” 
replied Camille. “ I will do you this great honour.” 

“ That is what I want,” resumed Samuel. “ I am the 
offended party, and have the choice of weapons.” And as he 
saw M. Langis out, he said : “ I will not deny having been a 
constant frequenter of shooting galleries, I am a first-rat© 
pistol shot.” 


m 


SAMUEL BROHL AND RARtNER. 


Camille bowed and retired. 

Next morning, in a lucid interval, Mademoiselle Moriaz 
saw a locket and scarlet hood laid at the foot of her bed. 
From that moment, the doctors summoned for consultation 
began to be more hopeful. 


CHAPTER XIL 

Six days afterwards, Samuel Brohl, having passed through 
Namur and Li^ge without stopping, arrived by rail at Aix- 
la-Chapelle. He put up at the H6tel-Royal, near the 
station, and ordered a copious breakfast, which he washed 
down with some creaming champagne. He had a good 
appetite, his mind was at ease, his heart light and happy, 
and his head in the skies. He had avenged himself and 
punished an insolent rival ; Mademoiselle Moriaz might not 
be Samuel Brohrs, but she would never be the bride of 
Camille Langis. 

Close to the Franco-Belgian frontier, on the edge of a 
wood, a man had been hit full in the breast by; a pistol 
bullet ; Samuel Brohl had seen him fall and some one had 
cried, ‘‘ He is dead ! ” 

People call Aix-la-Chapelle a dull town, and declare that 
the very dogs grow weary of their life, and piteously beg 
the passers-by to give them even a kick to vary its monotony. 
Samuel was not in the least bored during the evening he 
spent in the city of Charlemagne. He had always before 
his eyes a woodland glade and a man falling struck down by 
his bullet, and a delightful thrill went through him. , 

After the champagne, he drank some punch, and then slept 
like a dormouse ; unfortunately sleep dispelled the pleasant 


Samuel brohl and partner. 


m 


V^isions, and the awaking was not cheerful. He had a fatal 
habit of reflection ; he reflected, and his reflections saddened 
him ; he had taken his revenge, but what was that after all ? 

He thought for a long time of Mademoiselle Moriaz, and 
gazed with a melancholy glance on the two hands whose 
talons had released their prey. He repeated half aloud 
some German lines to this efiect : 

“lam resolved to bury my songs and my dreams; go and 
bring me a large coffin. Why is this coffin so heavy ? 
Because I have buried my love and my sufferings with my 
dreams,” 

When Samuel had repeated these lines, he felt sadder 
than before, and cursed the poets. 

“ They have done me a great deal of harm,” said he to 
himself bitterly. “ Without them, I had nothing to do but 
let the halcyon days fleet by in the service of a certain old 
lady. My future was secured, but they disgusted me with 
the way in which I was earning my bread. I believed their 
words and became the dupe of their empty spoutings ; they 
inspired me with an absurd contempt and with the unhealthy 
ambition of playing the part, a very foolish part, of a man of 
magnanimous sentiments. What has it brought me to now?” 

Samuel Brohl was right, semi-scoundrels have a claim on 
our pity. Their conscience occasionally throws light on 
their circumstances ; they have a faint glimpse of what they 
really are, become disgusted and vainly wish to turn honest, 
and this produces an inconsistency in their lives which ruins 
their enterprises; a feature quite unknown to thorough 
rascals, who throw themselves heart and soul into their 
business and are never disgusted with themselves. Samuel 
was a romantic scoundrel, and he discovered that his 
romance, after costing him dear, had not brought him in 
anything. He was ready to exclaim with Brutus, “Virtue, 
tliou’rt but an empty name ! ” 


220 


SAMUEJL BROHL AND PARTNER* 


He was tired of the Old World, where unlucky meetings 
sometimes take place, to say nothing of the ground being 
poor and yielding nothing but brambles, where it is vain to 
manure the soil since the seed will not come up. He had 
made up his mind to go to Holland and take ship thence to 
America. What would he do in the United States ? He had 
no idea yet. He reviewed every calling that presented itself 
as suitable to his mind, but they all required some capital. 

Thanks to Providence and Herr Guldenthal, — whose bill 
ran some risk of being protested — he was not destitute of 
all resources ; but, only a week before, he had twisted up 
and burned twenty-five Bank of France notes. He looked 
back rather remorsefully on this act; he could not help 
reminding himself that a revenge costing twenty-five 
thousand francs was a luxury in which poor devils had no 
right to indulge themselves. While meditating on this 
incident, he felt as if it had not been himself who had burnt 
those notes, or that he had at least mechanically executed 
this autonda-fA by a kind of unreflecting impulse, like a 
marionette moving at the pull of an invisible string. 

The phantom partner with whom he habitually conversed 
rose up with a sneer on its lips, and Samuel addressed it — 
for the last time. 

“ You are my evil genius,” said he. “ You are the madman 
who led me into this extravagance. It was you, Abel Larinski, 
who lighted that candle, you put the notes in my hand, took 
my arm and stretched it out, holding it above the fatal flame. 
This act of sublime heroism was your work ; it was not I, 
but you, who purchased so dearly the pleasime of astonishing 
and killing the man who insulted me. A thousand curses 
on the day when I first assumed your name and conceived 
the mad project of becoming your representative. I turned 
Pole ; has Poland ever had the faintest idea of prudence ? 
You were the man above all others incapable of making your 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


221 


way in the world, I copied a bad model and made blunder 
after blunder. Abel Larinski, you and I will part company, 
I hereby dissolve our partnership. Yes, noble Pole, I restore 
you your name and title, and with them all you made over to 
me; your pride, your claims, your fatal delicacy of feeling, your 
attitudes, your sentimental grimaces and nodding plume.” 

And thus Samuel Brohl took a final leave of the noble 
Count Abel Larinski, who was henceforth to rest quietly 
in his grave, no longer tormented by fears of his dead 
self being compromised by a living man. What 
name should Samuel take now ? Being disenchanted with 
his destiny, he chose for the time being the humblest he 
could think of, and called himself Kicks, his mother’s name, 
which means a false stroke, a miss-cue at billiards. 

His dejection would have been unbounded, could he have 
suspected that Camille Langis was still in existence. For a 
fortnight Camille Langis hung between life and death, but at 
last the surgeon succeeded in extracting the ball. Madame 
de Lorcy had started at once for Mons and nursed him like a 
mother, till she had the joy of bringing him back to 
Paris alive. 

Care had been taken not to give Mademoiselle Moriaz any 
account of the duel nor even to mention it ; her condition 
caused anxiety for some time, and she was spared all emotion. 
After becoming convalescent, she remained sad, sombre and 
taciturn. She never made the slightest allusion to what had 
happened, and would not allow it to be mentioned. She had 
been deceived, and her mistake had left behind it a mingled 
sense of mortification and mistrust ; she felt incapable for 
the future of anything but recollection and silence. 

Towards the end of November, M. Moriaz proposed that 
they should return to Parist She expressed a wish not to 
leave Cormeilles, but to pass the winter in seclusion, for she 
shrank from human faces, M. Moriaz ventured to show her 


222 


SAMUEL BROHL AND PARTNER. 


how unreasonable she was. “ Do you mean to mourn for 
ever over a stranger asked he, ‘‘for after all, you never 
saw the man whom you really loved, the real Count Abel. 
Why, bless me, what does it all amount to ? that you made a 
mistake. Well, and is there, I will not say one woman, but 
one member of the Institute, who has not been grossly im- 
posed upon, at least once in his life? Science progresses 
through the failure of experiments.” 

Then, taking a higher standpoint, he strove to show her 
that, vexatious as it may be to be deceived, it is a still 
greater evil to have an overpowering dread of being cheated, 
since it is better to lose one’s way than not to walk at all. 

When he had finished his exhortation, she shook her head, 
saying : “ I have no faith in any one now.” 

“ What ! not even in the brave fellow to whom you owe 
the recovery of your likeness and letters ? ” 

“ Whom do you mean ? ” she exclaimed. 

He then told her the story of Camille’s interview with 
Samuel Bl-ohl, without mentioning its ultimate results. 

“Ah, it was very good of him, very good,” said she. “ I 
never doubted the reality of Camille’s friendship.” 

“ Friendship ? Are you sure that what he feels for you is 
nothing more than friendship ? ” 

And hereupon M. Moriaz finished his story to the end. 
She became thoughtful and fell into a reverie, when, 
suddenly, the door opened and in walked Camille. 

After inquiring about her health, he told her that he had 
been ill in consequence of a chill, and that though he had 
now recovered, his doctor was sending him to winter at 
Sorrento. 

She answered : “ It is a trip I should like to make. Will 
you take me with you ? ” • 

She looked him full in the face, and that look told all. 
He knelt dowp before her^ and they remained for some 


SAMUEL BBOHL AND PARTNER. 


223 


moments with their hands clasped in each other’s, gazing 
into each other’s eyes. While they were in this attitude, 
Mademoiselle Jeanne Moiseney made her appearance, and 
stood petrified at the sight of this group. 

“ You are astonished now, I suppose, mademoiselle,” said 
M. Moriaz. 

Not so much as you imagine,” retorted she, recovering 
herself. I dared not say so, but at the bottom of my heart 
I always thought and expected — . Yes, I was always sure 
that it would end so.” 

“ Long live Pope Joan !” exclaimed he. ‘‘ I give up all hopes 
of reclaiming her.” 

We have not succeeded in discovering what Samuel Brohl 
is doing in America. Is he humbly awaiting, in obscurity, a 
return of better fortune ? Has he ventured on another matri- 
monial scheme ? Has he become a reporter for the New York 
Herald^ a politician in a northern state, or a “ carpet-bagger” 
in South Carolina? Does he dream of becoming one day 
president of the gloiious republic of the stars and stripes ? 
Up to this time, no American paper has devoted the smallest 
paragraph to him. 

Adventurers, whether Jews or Christians, are apparitions 
which vanish and rei\ppear ; they belong to the family of 
divers, but after diving and diving again, they always perish 
by some catastrophe. The wave bears the drowning man to 
shore for an instant and then carries him back to engulf him 
in the briny abyss ; the lap of the waters is heard, a faint 
plash, and a hoarse cry, followed by a stifled gasp, and 
Samuel Brohl is gone. For some days tlTere is a discussion 
as to w’'hether his name was Brohl, Kicks, or Larinski, then 
something else is talked of, and his memory is buried in 
eternal silence. 


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RECENTLY RUBLISHED. 

False Hopes; ■ 

OR, 

FALLACIES, SOCIALISTIC AND SEMI-SOCIALISTIC3 
BRIEFLY ANSWERED. 


An Address, by Prof. GOLDWnST SMITH, D.C.L. 


No. 110, Lovell’s Library 15 cents 

“ This is the title of a pamphlet in which Mr. Goldwin Smith dissects and 
lays bare, in the most unimpassioned way, but with the keenest of literary 
scalpels, the fallacies involved in communism, socialism, nationalization of 
land, strikes, the various plans in vogue for emancipating labor from the 
dominion of capital. Protection, and some theories of innovation with regard :o 
Currency and Banking. The great number and prevalence of these diseases 3i’ 
the body politic are, he thinks, mainly due to th^gpdeparture or decline of re- 
ligious faith, which is so noticeable a feature of the present age; to popular 
education, which has gone far enough to make the masses think, but not think 
deeply ; to the ostentation of the vulgar rich, who ‘ deserve, fully as much as 
the revolutionary artisans, the name of a dangerous class to the democratic 
movement of the times ; and, to the revolution in science which ‘ has helped 
to excite the spirit of change in every sphere, little as Utopianism is akin to 
science.’ '''—Toronto Globe. 


MR. SCARBOROUGH’S FAMILY 

By ANTHONV TROLLOPE. 


» 

1 vol., 12mo., cloth, gilt $1.00 

1 “ “ paper 50 

Also in Lovell’s Library, No. 133, 2 parts, each 16 


“ In ‘Mr. Scarborough’s Family ’ there is abundance of ‘go,’ there are 
many striking scenes, and there is one character at least which is originaj 
almost to incredibility. There are light sketches of social life, one or two of 
them nearly in the author’s best manner, and many chapters which are ex- 
tremely entertaining. The story is so life like and so extremely readable, that 
we lay it down with a pleasure largely leavened with xagxeX.'''' —Saturday 
Review. 

“ ‘ Mr. Scarborough’s Family ’ is a very enjoyable novel. Mr. Trollope has 
never given us two stronger or less commonplace characters than that terrible 
old pagan, John Scarborough, and his attorney. Grey, whom we agree with his 
employer in describing as ‘ the sweetest and finest gentleman ’ we ever came 
across . ’ ’ — Academy. 

‘ “ Mr. Scarborough’s Family ’ recalls all those features in Mr. Trollope’s 
books which have made them the pleasure and instruction of generations of 
novel readers. He is in his old vein, and he has a story to tell that is infinitely 
amusing. Mr. Scarborough is a wonderful study. There is, indeed, no char- 
acter in the book that has not been carefully thought out. There is a delight- 
ful freshness about Florence Mountjoy. She is a fiank, outspoken damsel, 
whose mind is as healthy as her body. It is needless to say that the talk 
throughout the book is good. The novel as a whole, indeed, is one that wdll 
make readers regret more bitterly than ever that he who wrote it has gone from 
amongst —SooUman. 

JOHN W. LOVELL CO., 14 & 16 Vesey St., N. Y. 


SfLOVELL'S L!BRARY:-CATAL0GUE.- 


113. More Words Abont the Bible, 

by Rev. Jas. S. Bush 

114. Monsieur Lecoq, €raboriaii Pt. I. . 

gMonsieur Lecoq, Pt. II 

115. An Outline of Irish History, by 

Justin H. McCarthy 

1 1 6. The Lero uge Case, by Gaboriau. . 

117. Paul Clifford, by Lord Lytton. . . 

118. ANewLeaseof Life, by About.. 

119. Bourbon Lilies 

120. Other People's Money, Gaboriau. 

131. The Lady of Lyons, Lytton... 

123. Ameline deBourg 

123. A Sea Q,ueen, by W. Russell — 

124. The Ladies Lindores, by Mrs. 

Oliphant 

125. Haunted Hearts, by Simpson.... 

126. Loys, Lord Beresford, by The 

Duchess 

127. Under Two Flags, Ouida, Pt. I. . 

Under Two. Flags, Pt. II 

128. Money, by Lord Lytton 

129. In Peril of Ilis Life, by Gaboriau 

130. India, by Max Muller 

1.31. Jets and Flashes. 

132. Moonshine and Marguerites, by 

The Duchess 

133. Mr. Scarborough’s Family, by 

Anthony Trollope, Parti 

Mr, Scarborough’s Family, PtII. 

134. Arden, by A. Mary F. Robinson 

1.35. Tlie Tower of Percemont 

186. Yolande, by Wm. Black 

137. Cruel London, by Joseph Hatton 

188. The Gilded Clique, ^Gaboriau. 

189. Pike County Folks, E. H. Mott. . 

1 ^0. Cricket on the Hearth 

14!. Henry Esmond, by Thackeray. . 
142. Strange Adventures of a Phae- 
ton, by Wm. Black: . . . r 

148. Denis Duval, by Thackeray 

144. Old Curio.sity Shop,Dickens,PtI 
Old Curiosity Shop, Part II. . . , 

145. Ivanhoe, by Scott, Part I 

Ivanlioe, by Scott, Part II 

146. Whit* Wings, by Wm. Black.. 

147. The Sketch Book, by Irving 

148. Catherine, by W. M. Thackeray 

149. Janet’s Repentance, by Eliot... 

150. Bariiaby Rudge. Dickens, Pt I. . 

Bariia'oy Rudge, Part II 

151. Felix Holt, by George Eliot 

152. Richelieu, by Lord Lytton 

153. Sunrise, by Wm. Black, Part I. . 
Snnrise, by Wm. Black. Part 11. 

1.54. Tour of the World in 80 Days.. 

155. Mystery of Orcival, Gaboriau. . . . 

156. Lovel. the Widower, by W. M* 

Thackeray 

157. Romantic Adventures of a Milk 

maid, by Thomas Hardy 

158. David Copperfleld, Dickens, Pt I 

David Copperlield. Fart II 

160. Hieuzi, by Lord Lytton, Part I. , 
Rioiizi, by Ivord Lytton, Part II. 

161. Promise of Marriage, Gaboriau. 

163. Faith and Uiifaith, by The 

Duchess 


20 

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,20 

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ill 

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15 
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20 I 
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.15 

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.20 


163. The Happy Man, by Lover... 10 

164. Barry Lyndon, by Thackeray. ...20 

165. Eyre’s Acquittal 10 

166. Twenty Thousand Leagues Un- 

der the Sea, by Jules Verne 20 

167. Anti-Slavery Days, by James 

Freeman Clarke 20 

168. Beauty’s Daughters, by The 

Duchess 20 

169. Beyond the Sunrise 20 

170. Hard Times, by Charles Dickeup.20 

171. Tom Cringle’s Log, by M. Scott. .20 

172. Vanity Fair,by W.M.Thackeray.3n 

173. Underground Russia, Stepniak..20 

174. Middlemarcb, by Elliot, PtI.... 20 

Middlemarch, Part II 20 

Sir Tom, by Mrs. Oliphant 20 

Pelham, by Lord Lytton 20 

The Story of Ida 10 

Madcap Violet, by Wm. Black. .20 

The Little Pilgrim 10 

Kilmeny, by Wm. Black .20 

Whist, or Bumblepuppy ? 10 

The Beautiful Wretch, Black 20 

Her Mother’s Sin, by B. M. Clay.20 
Green Pastures and Piccadilly, € 

by Wm. Black 20 

The Mysterious I.'5]and,by Juies 

Verne, Part 1 15 

The Mysterious Island, Part II. .15 
The Mysterious Island, Part HI. 15 
Tom Brown at Oxford, Part I. . .15 
Tom Brown at Oxford, Part II . . 1 5 
Thicker than Water, by J. Payn.2') 
In Silk Attire, by Wm. Black. . .20 
Scottish Chiefs.Jane Porter, Pt.I.20 

Scottish Chiefs, Part II 20 

Willy Reilly, by Will Carleton. .20 
The Nautz Family, by Shelley. 20 
Great Expectations, by Dickeii8.‘ 0 
Pendennis,by Thackeray, Part 1.20 
Pendennis, by Thackeray , Part 11.2) 

Widow Bedott Papers 20 

Daniel Deronda,Geo. Eliot, Pi. I.tO 

Daniel Deronda, Part 11 20 

AltioraPeto, by Oiiphan? 20 

By the Gate of the Sea, by David 

Christie Murray 15 

Tales of a Traveller, by Irving. . .20 
Life and Voyages of Columbus, 
by Washington Irving, Part i. .20 
Life and Voyages of Colunibii*^, 
by Washington Irving, Part 11.20 

The Pilgrim’s Progress .20 

Martin Chuzzlewit, by Charles 

Dickens, Part I ..20 

Martin Chusalewit, Part II 20 

203. Theophrastus Such, Geo. Eliot.. . .20 

203. Disarmed, M. Betham-Ed\var(ls..l5 

204. .Eugene Aram, by Lord LytroTa.20 

205. The Spanish Gypsy and Other 

poems, by George Eliot 20 

206. Cast Up by the Sea. Baker 20 

207. Mill on the Floss, Eliot, Pt. I. . ,15 

Mill on tbe Floss, Part 1 1 15 

208. Brother Jacob, and Mr. Glifil’s 

Love Story, by George Eliot. . .10 
; 209. Wrecks in the Sea of Life. .. . . . .20 


175 

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177. 

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200 . 

201 . 


BRAnr AM) MRVE FOOD. 


Vitalized Phos-phitesJ 

COMPOSED OP THE NERVE-aiYING PRINCIPLES OP | 
THE OX-BRAIN AND WHEAT-GERM. | 

It restores the energy lost by Nervousness or Indigestion ; relieves ] 
Lassitude and Neuralgia; refreshes the nerves tired by worry, exoite-,| 
ment, or excessive brain fatigue ; strengthens a failing memory, and I 
gives renewed vigor in all diseases of Nervous Exhaustion or Debility. I 
It is the only PREVENTIVE FOR CONSUMPTION. | 

It aids wonderfully in the mental and hodUy growth of infants and f 
ehUdren, Under its me the teeth come easier, the hones grow better, the skin 
jlumper cmd smoother; the brain acquires more readily, and rests and sleeps . 
more sweetly. An ill fed brain learns no lessons, and is excusable if peevish. , 
Jt gives a happier and better childhood. ^ j 

It is with the utmost confidence that I recommend this excellent pre-^ 
paration for the relief of indigestion and for general debility; nay, I do more j 
than recommend, 1 really urge all invalids to put it to the test, for in sev- J 
eral cases personally known to me signal benefits have been derived from J 
its use. I have recently \vatched its effects on a young friend who Las t 
suffered from indigestion all her life. After taking the Vitalized Phos-J 
PHITES for a fortnight she said to me; ‘I feel another person; it is a pleas - 1 
ure to live. * Many hard-working men and women — especially those engaged 
in brain work — would be saved from the fatal resort to chloral and other * 
destructive stimulants, if they would have recourse to a remedy so simple i 
and so efficacious. '* 1 

Emily Faithfull. | 

Physicians have ptiescrtbfd ovee 600.000 Packages because they 

ENOW ITS Composition, that it is not a secret remedy, and ! 

THAT THE FORMULA IS PRINTED ON EVERY LABEL 

For Sale by Drusfisrlsts or by all, 

P. CROSBY CO., 664: and 668 Sixth Avonne, New York. 



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